A Very Bad Idea
by dharmamonkey
Summary: A collab-anthology by Lesera128 the Brennanizer & dharmamonkey the Boothwhisperer featuring a series of completely unrelated multi-chapter scenarios in which the dam breaks.
1. 1—Desecrating a National Monument, Pt I

**A Very Bad Idea**

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><p><strong>By:<strong> dharmamonkey & Lesera128  
><strong>Rated: <strong>M  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>Ummm, nope, we still don't own anything. We have, however, apparently become squatters in the sandbox that we crashed... so, umm... yeah. There we go

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><p><strong>AN: **Here we are again, doing our usual B&B + angst = eventual _yowzah_

**UNF alert**: This chapter (and the three that follow) is about extreme angry!unf, plain and simple. B&B bicker, get really angry, argue, argue some more, say really mean things to each other, and unfness ensues. If you can't bear to see B-on-B angry/mean interactions, then we know you definitely won't like this piece. (Of course, you'll miss the unf, but you'll be happier that way.) Cliches may be present, but were not deemed harmful in the creation of such moments of "guh". Triteness has been kept to a minimum, but don't read this expecting epic emotional confessions/devotions/ and/or plot, because it's not here...purposefully. Notes saying B&B seem out-of-character are not necessary since there is no characterization here beyond what is needed to create this dharmasera goodness. If you think you can handle it, read on. But don't say we didn't warn ya. The NFPA fire protection code requires us to tell you that an approved, fully-tested fire extinguisher should be kept nearby while reading.

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><p><strong>1. Desecrating a National Monument, Part I<strong>

**Pertinent Details on Scenario #1: **Set in season 1, at the very end of episode 1x08: "The Girl in the Fridge."

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><p>It was cold that night, and the sharp breeze ripped through the flimsy, thin and completely uninsulated nylon material of Brennan's dark blue Jeffersonian field jumpsuit. Being that high up off the ground, attached to the side of the Washington Monument as she examined the remains with Booth, who was dressed nice and comfortably warm in his thick black wool overcoat—well, it was enough to make her bubbling anger start to simmer all over again.<p>

_I'm not feeling very forgiving_, she had told him earlier. _I warned him even. But, we have a case, _Brennan mentally grunted. _A case. There's always a fucking case, isn't there?_

Struggling to get a better source of illumination on the body, Brennan sighed as she reached into her bag and pulled out a flashlight.

"Booth."

"Yeah, Bones?" he replied.

"I need you to hold this, please," she said as she handed him the flashlight. "There's not enough illumination here for me to see what in the hell it is that I need to be squinting at to do my job properly."'

"Sure," he said, cringing a little at her tone of voice. "Ummm, where do you want me to point it?"

Brennan rolled her eyes at him. "How about at the remains, Booth?"

She shook her head and tried to rid her mind of the fact that it was significantly colder than she had thought it would be at 10 o'clock at night on the side of Washington D.C.'s most phallic symbol of national pride. _It doesn't matter. I can deal with the cold_, Brennan thought to herself. _I've dealt with worse a lot worse than this, and I've always done it by myself. I don't need help from anyone, because that's when things always start to transition from having a cumulative positive effect upon one's mental well-being to an overall negative effect. For example, Michael_—_for a brief time, I enjoyed indulging in the reminiscences of our competitive relationship when I was in graduate school. That was a period in my life that was fun with very little responsibility and all I had to worry about was satisfactorily completing my course work each semester. Between the start and finish of each semester, the time was mine to do with as I liked by immersing myself in the world of bones during the day, and uncomplicated and very gratifying sex at night._

Brennan stopped as she considered what it had been like over the past week when she had indulged in allowing Michael to charm her into resuming their on-again/off-again sexual relationship. Her thoughts went back to the last time they had slept together after she 'won' her dinner at the Italian restaurant, and they'd polished off not two, both three bottles of red wine.

"_Tempe," Michael had moaned. "Come to bed."_

_Brennan sat at her vanity, dressed only in a dark blue chiffon robe that revealed more than it concealed. It was looped at her waist, but she didn't give it much thought as she finished brushing her hair._

_She looked up in the mirror as she stared at him for a minute, watching him watching her at the vanity. He was lounging in her bed, her 800-thread count damask sateen sheets draped haphazardly over his legs, while he reclined on her pillows watching her through lazy eyes._

"_Give me just a minute more," Brennan told him, slightly annoyed that her bedtime ritual was being interrupted. _

_It wasn't that she was particularly dedicated to brushing her hair, but the monotony of the task helped her to think. And, currently. even with a bottle and a half of moderately priced red wine flowing __through her veins, she was still far from mellow. _Of course, _Brennan thought to herself, _I would've gotten a better buzz if Michael had just let me order the Fattoria di Felsina, Chianti Classico Riserva Rancia 2001 that I'd wanted to get instead of the Frescobaldi, Chianti Rufina Riserva Castello di Nipozzano 2001 that he'd insisted we order. I don't know why Michael prefers three bottles of the cheaper stuff to the one bottle of the good wine since we'd end up spending the same price for both. I mean it's not like I didn't offer to pay for the better vintage myself, and I would've even paid for the three bottles of the more expensive wine myself—of course, that was when I thought he'd actually do the right thing and pick up the tab instead of doing the cheap thing and having the waitress bring separate checks. But, fine, whatever, _she complained to herself. The thought drifted away as the image of Maggie Schilling's x-rays still played in her mind's eye._

Something's just not right there, _Brennan thought. _I know I'm missing something. I just don't know what it is...

_A sigh from the bed drew her attention back to her mirror._

"_Tempe?" he called out. "It's getting late, and I'm half-falling asleep here."_

_Once again, as soon as she heard his words, Brennan resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She'd known as soon as she'd foolishly agreed to let Michael stay at her apartment for another night that sexual intercourse was an expectation on his part based on an unspoken implication in her offer._

_"Okay," she said, her voice flat as she stood up from the stool in front of her vanity and made her way to the bed. _

_Michael looked at her through narrowed eyes, a crooked, open-mouthed grin on his face as he watched her breasts sway gently under the fabric of her robe. He lifted the dark burgundy-hued sateen sheet, inviting her to join him. Brennan paused for only a moment, pulling the knot of the robe lose and then taking off the garment. She folded it, then placing it at the foot of her bed before climbing into the wrong side of the bed. _I hate this side of the bed_, she thought. _Of course, Michael had to appropriate my side of the bed—that's just so typically Michael...or, not, maybe—maybe it's just him being so typically male. _As she adjusted herself and reluctantly inched towards him_—_more like it was a chore to be completed than something pleasurable in which to partake—she wondered how long this was actually going to take. For his part, Michael seemed oblivious to her reticence. He ran his hand through his dark hair as she climbed into bed. _

_"Hey," he said quietly, letting the sheet fall over her lap as he rolled over to close the distance between them. Brennan's instinct was to tense, but her rational mind forced her body to relax as Michael leaned in and covered her shoulder with his palm. He rested it there for a few seconds, and Brennan felt a bit of hope when she thought he might actually move to stroke her breasts. But, when she glanced down and saw his erection tenting the sheets, she knew he was a lot further along than she was, and most likely knowing Michael as she did, not interested in a lot of foreplay. He removed his hand, letting it fall to her side, as he leaned in closer to her and covered her mouth with his. It took Michael a moment to note Brennan's response which could be described as lukewarm at best. Eventually, he slowly pulled away as he realized that her lips remained cool and still beneath his, despite his attempts to coax her into a giving mood. _

_"What's wrong?" he asked quietly. _

_"Nothing," she replied with a sigh. "Why did you stop?"_

"_Because it felt like I was kissing a sex doll I once had in college," Michael joked. Brennan's eyes narrowed at him, and he quickly amended, "That was a joke, Tempe."_

"_Oh," she said, biting her lip in response._

"_Come on, Tempe," Michael prompted her. "I know that look. And, that look belongs back at the lab five hours ago, not here in bed right now we we're about to have sex."_

_Looking up at him, Brennan slowly nodded. "You're right. I'm sorry. I was just thinking about the case."_

_"Tempe," he said, rolling onto his back and pulling her on top of him. "We're off the clock. Dr. Brennan has left the building. When you're naked, in bed with me, that means that the only person who should be here is Tempe, huh? So, don't think about the case now. Just do that compartmentalization thing you do so brilliantly for the next five or ten minutes, and then we can talk about it after, if you want to—"_

_"I can't help it, Michael," she grumbled. "I'm sorry, I'm distracted, and not giving you my full attention, but I can't help but feel as if I'm missing something. And, every time I try to push the thought away, it just nags at me to give it more attention."_

"_Well, I think I'd like some of that attention right about now," Michael told her with a soft smile._

"_I know," Brennan told him. "And, I'd love to be able to focus solely on what we're doing here. But, I don't know if I can. Before we left for dinner, I didn't quite finish everything I needed to on the Schilling case. I really only stopped because I had to because I'm still waiting to get some of the particulate test results back from Dr. Hodgins. Once I do, I think they may help me to, determine the conundrum that I know needs to be solved because it's crucial to proving the prosecution's case, but I just haven't quite —"_

_"Come on, Tempe," he whined, as he cut her off. Hoping logic might be a bit more effective since his personal appeals seemed to be falling on deaf ears, Michael nodded at her as he said, "Hey, remember, we're not supposed to talk about that stuff anymore, right?"_

_Brennan again bit her lip as she realized the faux pas she'd made out of habit. Slowly, she nodded her head in response._

"_So, why don't you let that FBI flatfoot—Boone or whatever his name is—let him worry about things for a while, because, like I said, you're off the clock," Michael told her with a wink that did absolutely nothing to her but increase her annoyance._

_"Booth," she said firmly. "His name is Booth, Michael."_

"_Oh, right," he grinned. "Like a phone booth. I've got it then. I'll remember that."_

"_No, not like a phone booth, Michael," Brennan frowned at him. "It's just Booth. And, he's my partner. He's very good at what he does, by the way, despite your unfair and inaccurate application of __a derogatory appellation at him. Also, since he's my partner, and he always gives 110% to our cases, metaphorically speaking, of course, I owe the same duty to him. I'd be remiss if I didn't, and you know how I feel when I'm unable to preform to the best of my professional standards."_

_Leaning in again, his lips hovering over hers, he shook his head with a quiet laugh. "How about we sideline the professional performance for a while, and if you want to perform, think about something a bit more...unprofessional, huh? Because, I've got to tell you_—_laying in bed with you naked and hard while you talk about another guy is a real buzzkill, Tempe. I don't really care what his name is, and I don't care that he's your partner. I don't care what you think you owe him right now, or what you want to do with him, or how he makes you feel_—_unless this is your way of telling me you'd rather be in bed with him right now instead of me?"_

_For a split second, another set of eyes—brown, not blue—blinked back at her, but Brennan quickly pushed the image out of her head as she ignored the tingle of excitement that had flickered in her belly at the mention of Booth's name. "No, Michael. I'm in bed with you, and I know that—" Brennan said, ignoring the crux of his prior comment._

"_Good," Michael said with a firm nod. "Because, tonight, there's really the only thing you need to think about, Tempe—me."_

_He reached for her again, and Brennan pulled back slightly again, causing Michael to sigh once more. _

"_Wait," she protested. _

"_What now?" he asked her, the annoyance growing in his voice._

"_Do you have a condom?" Brennan asked. "It might be a good idea to use two this time to desensitize you a bit, just in case—"_

"_Fuck, Tempe," Michael growled at her. "Way to kill the mood."_

"_Sorry," she said again, even though she really wasn't. "I just want to make certain there isn't a repeat of last night."_

_Reaching over to the nightstand, he grabbed two foil wrappers off the top and tossed them at her. "Here," he said. _

_Catching them, Brennan nodded. "Do you want me to help you put them on?"_

"_It's the least you can do since you're making such a big deal about this, don't you think?" Michael replied. With another shake of his head as he watched Brennan pull back the sheets, he sighed as he added, "You never used to have an issue with making me wear a rubber, Tempe. I thought you were on the pill."_

I am, _Brennan thought to herself. _But, there's no way in hell I'm taking any chances with you—either from the perspective of risking my health or a pregnancy scare. No, I'm not doing that again, _Brennan mentally grumbled, as she also thought about the spermicide she had in her bathroom for later use. _No, I'm definitely not taking any chances with you.

"_Humor me," she said, forcing a smile on her lips as her hands moved towards him. _

_Somewhat placated, when Michael felt her hands on his dick, it went quite quickly from there. Once the condoms were in place, Brennan leaned in and squeezed her eyes shut as she returned Michael's kiss. _

_He wasn't a bad lover, really. In fact, he was a highly competent sexual partner, which made it that much more surprising when, that night, as she lay next to him in her bed, she felt a curious detached numbness as he touched her. It wasn't that she wasn't aware of what he was doing when his fingers parted her folds, and he briefly stroked his thumb across her clit before he turned to satisfying his own needs. It wasn't that her body didn't have some type of response when he drew his hips back and, with a soft grunt, entered her. It wasn't that she didn't know exactly what was happening as she felt him continue to build towards a climax, but realized with a bit of academic curiosity that while her body responded enough to his efforts that she at least produced enough lubrication as they achieved coitus, she was mildly aroused at best. There was almost no excitement, no passion, no thrill to their coupling—none at all beyond the briefest of thoughts that she'd allowed herself to indulge in when the image of Booth had come into her mind and gotten her wet in the first place. _

No excitement and no satisfaction, for me, at least, _Brennan thought miserably. _And, there definitely won't be any that will be sufficient enough to result in my own orgasm tonight—unless I attend to my own needs after the fact—which might not be that bad an idea anyway_,_ _she told herself as the image of Booth flashed before her mind's eye once again. _No, that's not necessarily a bad idea at all.

_Later, after Michael had drifted off to sleep, Brennan had crept into her bathroom to attend to her own needs. She was surprised at how little it actually took when she allowed the image of her partner to come into her mind's eye. _He has a great chest, from an anatomical perspective, _Brennan had mused as her fingers dipped inside her warm folds, and she started to plunge in and out of her body, increasing her tempo as she thought of Booth. _But, his ass—that may be his best feature. Yeah, he has a fantastic ass—firm and taut. I wonder what it would feel like if I grabbed it. _Her breathing had come faster as she pictured caressing it, and then firmly squeezing it. Brennan could feel herself building to a remarkably fast climax. _God, he's got a great body—_Brennan again raggedly gasped as she pictured how his eyes would look right before he came and called out her name. The image, a stare of brooding and dark intensity, had been enough to push Brennan over the edge. She collapsed against the side of her sink, her body suddenly languid with repletion. She allowed herself a moment to indulge in the post-orgasmic haze, before she moved to clean herself up and return to bed._

_As she lay there thinking, analyzing and deconstructing the entire experience, Brennan realized that somehow, at some point, she'd become a mere observer of these things, not really an active participant in the act, but a simple recorder of such sensations, rather than the one experiencing them. She had been in bed with Michael, yes, as he stroked in and out of her, each movement incrementally more forceful than the last, and she bit her lip as she tried to lose herself in the experience. But, in the end, as Michael pressed himself into her one last time and she felt his body tense against hers as he ejaculated—thankfully confined by the latex of two condoms so that his fluids wouldn't actually be left inside her—she just wanted the whole business to be over. She closed her eyes and sighed gratefully when she felt him slip out of her and roll off of her, then she turned onto her side, facing away from him, unwilling to look in his eyes as she listened to the sound of his breathing. _

_Brennan tried to swallow the hard lump that had formed in her throat as she wondered how what had __once been so fulfilling could leave her feeling so empty, metaphorically speaking. _

"Hey, Bones..."

_It just didn't make any sense. She and Michael had had very satisfying sexual experiences before...so what had changed? Why did she need the image of her partner to get her to come? None of it made any sense, none at all. Something had changed, at some point, so what was it? What had changed and when?_

"Bones!" Booth snapped his fingers loudly, trying to get her attention. "Earth to Bones." He looked at her curiously as she gazed into space. "Yo—Ground Control to Doctor Bones..."

"What?" she said, startled from her memory. She looked at her partner, fairly confident that his chest would be more well-toned and muscular than Michael's.

"You okay there, Bones?" he asked with a crooked brow.

"Yes, of course," she said, squeezing her eyes shut as she tried to modulate her voice as evenly as possible. "Why?"

Booth shook his head and shrugged. "I dunno, Bones. You just seem—well, more than a little distracted."

"I apologize," Brennan said. "I was lost in a train of thought. It won't happen again."

"Okay—" Booth replied with a shrug.

"So, how do they think they got him up here again?" Brennan asked as she tried jettison the mental image of her partner's naked chest and firm ass from her mind. "It's not like this is exactly the most obscure place to leave a body."

Pointing at the scaffolding, Booth said, "The Monument's been closed since September undergoing that major $15 million renovation that the pundits have been bitching about in the news because of the cost, Bones. It's not scheduled to reopen until the spring, probably late April or May—at the earliest. While the renovations have been going on, the Park Police have been spending a lot of time upgrading security measures. They're in the process of installing a new surveillance system right now, so there've been no cameras or other recording devices in use since the system was taken offline early yesterday morning."

"So, basically there's no way to know who was coming when, where, and how? The entire Monument's blind?" Brennan asked with the disgust clear in her voice.

Booth nodded. "I mean, they have Park Police round the clock—or, at least they did before the body was found. Now, they've cleared the interior of the Monument and are maintaining a perimeter at the base."

"That means its just you and me up here?" Brennan sighed, glancing down at the muted level of lights that were displayed from the unusually small number of police cruisers and FBI vehicles gathered at the scene a couple of hundred feet below them.

Again, Booth nodded. "I'm 'fraid so, Bones. You're stuck with me."

_Aren't I always_? Brennan thought to herself. Avoiding rolling her eyes at him, Brennan pointed at the body. "So, ummm, explain again—how are we supposed to get the remains down once I've finished my preliminary examination?" she asked.

Booth shrugged his shoulders. "As soon as you're done, and you give the word, I'll call the Park Police—"

"There's no way that anyone from the NPS is touching these remains," Brennan scoffed. "I've yet to meet a single member of that organization that has any proper forensic training or the requisite knowledge needed to prepare these remains for transport back to the Jeffersonian—"

"Whoa, there, Bones," Booth interrupted her, shaking his head at her unexpected burst of emotion. "Relax, okay? The Park Police will escort as many techs from the FBI forensic team as we can safely get up here at one time to come on up and bring 'em down, so there's no need for you to get your lab coat twisted into a bunch for nothing. No one's gonna compromise the remains."

"I should think not," Brennan finally told him, slightly mollified by his explanation, but just slightly.

Reaching for her bag, she began to rummage for something when Booth looked down at his watch. A sharp wind blew again, and he shivered a bit. _Man, this is not my preferred way to spend a night in D.C. It's too damn cold up here. _He clapped his hands together and was rubbing them to get some feeling back into his extremities when Brennan looked up at him.

"What?" Booth asked. "I'm cold."

"And, yet, you think I would be the one complaining given the fact that I'm not the one who has the benefit of extra outer layers to help in the retaining of your natural body heat," Brennan muttered as she moved to prod the body again.

"At least you have gloves," Booth joked as he pointed at the blue nitrile gloves that Brennan wore on her hands.

"These are hardly conducive to maintaining body heat," Brennan observed dryly.

Booth stared at her for a minute. Brennan, however, refused to look away. Finally, he caved with a sigh. "I asked if you wanted my coat."

"I know," Brennan said, looking up at him.

"So, if you want it, all you have to do is tell me, Bones." Booth watched his breath condense in the air in front of his face. "I'm not a mind reader," he grumbled as he moved to shrug out of the jacket.

Brennan looked at him and said, "What are you doing?"

"I'm taking off my jacket so that you can have it—"

"I don't want it," Brennan shook her head.

At her words, Booth sighed again. "Oh, okay. So, you're just saying what you said to—?"

"Make a point," Brennan said, turning back to the body.

"Or bitch," he muttered under his breath. Brennan appeared not to have heard him as she rattled off a couple of observations about the body that forced Booth to take out his note cards and start writing. When she had stopped talking, he nodded at her and asked, "So, any idea how long you think this is gonna take, Bones?"

Narrowing her eyes in him in overt suspicion, Brennan frowned. "Why?" Brennan glowered at him with a furrowed brow. "You aren't in some kind of hurry, are you?"

"What?" he asked, caught off-guard by her question. "No, not at all."

Unconvinced, an image of Booth and Tessa arriving at the dance club of Randall Hall from a couple of weeks earlier popped into Brennan's head. Her jaw tightened as she felt a knot tighten in her stomach. "This homicide investigation isn't keeping you from a prior commitment is it, Booth?

"Well, no," he stammered, put off slightly by her sharpness. "It's just that, well—" A brisk wind again blew and cut through Booth as his words trailed off. He was surprised that Brennan seemed so unaffected by the chill. As her loose hair whipped about her face in the wind, Booth noticed, not for the first time that night, that she seemed off. Her behavior seemed peculiar in so many ways—from the fact that she hadn't secured her hair in its customary ponytail to the fact she seemed unusually snappy had caught him off guard and confused him somewhat as he processed the strange vibes she was sending out. _Man, that asshole Stires fucked her up even worse than I thought_, Booth silently observed. _God, I'd love to have just two minutes with that motherfucker to let him know what I really think of the jerkwad way that he treated her this week. _"Look, Bones. I'm good. It'_s _just that—"

"What?" Brennan snorted, impatient to hear his explanation, she interrupted him. "Let me guess. You're in a hurry to get back to your place for some kind of...what would be the appropriate descriptor? 'Hot date'?"

"Huh?" Booth scrunched his brow and shook his head. "Don't be stupid, Bones. Why would you say something like that?"

"First, I'm not stupid. Quite the opposite, in fact, Booth. I'm extremely intelligent, as you well know. Second, you've glanced at your watch several times in the past ten minutes, even if you don't think that anyone's watching you. Your attention span has been even less engaged than it normally is, despite the fact that I know several zoologists who would attest that they believe members of the _sciuridae_ family have a better ability to pay attention than you do, despite the stereotype to the contrary. Third, I've noticed that we are the only personnel here, Booth, which is a marked departure from our normal _modus operandi_. I can only conclude when combining the third point with the first two that you've altered our normal procedures for some reason of your own. Given the fact that I know you normally go out on some social ritual with your current sexual bed-mate before you engage in coitus, it's understandable that you'd wish to expedite our work here, but irksome nonetheless."

_Current sexual bed-mate? What_?

"Now, wait just a damn minute, here, Bones. I don't know what maggot has burrowed its way into that brainiac noggin of yours, but you're way off _base_. And, although you're right that I have been distracted, it's just because it's sorta freezing up here—in case you haven't noticed.

Brennan rolled her eyes at him again. "I have noticed."

Booth sighed in resignation. "What do you want me to do, Bones?"

"How about do what you're supposed to do as my partner and assist me_?_" Brennan told him simply.

"How?" Booth asked. "You need to be a bit more specific, Bones."

Again, Brennan rolled her eyes in a clearly exaggerated manner. "If you really wanted to help me do a thorough job here," she said, "I'd have expected you to call out an FBI forensic team to assist me."

He laughed, clearly amused at her words. "Wait—so now you _want _FBI forensic technicians here to help you? The same people you shoo away every other time they've gotten within fifty feet of you while you're working your bone magic?" She nodded at him. Booth's laugh deepened as he shook his head. "Geez, Bones. Now you're making absolutely no sense—none at all. I don't understand what you're talking about."

"Where are the techs?" Brennan asked.

"They'll be along," Booth said. "If and when we need them."

"You always say we need them," Brennan said. "What's changed with this case, right here, right now, in this place and time that makes anything different?"

Booth was about to open his mouth and try to logically explain to her that the Park Rangers wanted to downplay the situation so the press didn't crowd the Monument to get a story before they got the remains out of the opening before the crime scene was compromised. They'd had to keep the detail scaled back so that it looked like nothing too much out of the ordinary was going on, and Booth wasn't supposed to give the call to the full detail until Brennan was done, and they could bag and remove the body. However, the hard look on Brennan's face as stubborn gaze he was coming to know well—and one that he'd seen far too frequently over the past week and a half since Stires had reappeared in her life.

"You wouldn't believe me even if I told you, Bones," Booth finally told her. "Because, obviously, you've already made up your mind by your little dig there, which, by the way, don't think it's escaped my notice with your little jibe about my personal life."

She narrowed her eyes and said, "You're quite right, Booth. But, just so there isn't confusion, I'll be clear. I'm suggesting, Booth, that you're trying to expedite the process by understaffing this operation."

Booth stiffened at her words. He felt a flush of anger at the implication of her words.

"So, wait," he sputtered at him. "You're not actually accusing me of dereliction of duty, right? Because that would be pretty damn ballsy, Bones. Even for you."

"What do you mean, 'even for you'?" she snapped.

Booth grunted a laugh. "You're a smart girl, Bones. You figure it out."

"I can't believe this," Brennan said with You're so—"

"Look," Booth growled, the tips of his ears flushed with anger. "If there's anyone who's more likely to shirk their duty to go get some action, it'd be you, Bones. I'm not the one who nipped out of the office early to go answer a booty call from the defense's star expert this week, am I?"

"Who in the hell do you think you are?" Brennan spat at him, sneering as she looked her nose down at him. "You have no _right, _absolutely no right whatsoever to talk to me that way."

"Me?" Booth countered, the self-righteous tone in her voice merely inflaming his anger further. "I'm not the one who started this, Bones. That was you, if you recall."

"And, I warned you," Brennan said, pointing her finger at him. "I told you I wasn't feeling generous tonight."

"Of course, since when is that something new?" Booth muttered. "Look, it's not my fault we had a case. As much as I'd like to be able to schedule the murders in D.C. for times when it's more convenient for your schedule, murderers sorta do things on their own time, Bones. That's kinda one of the hallmarks of the whole sociopathy thing."

"God!" Brennan said, wringing her fists in the air. "How can you be so fucking infuriating?"

Smirking at her, Booth retorted, "It's just a natural gift, Bones. I was just born that way."

"I'm not dealing with this tonight," Brennan said, standing up and snapping her gloves off. "I told you, Booth. I've had a hell of a week—no, no that's not entirely accurate. I've had such a bad week that I think it's fair to say, as Angela told me just this morning, that I've had a bitch of a week, I believe. Now, I'm not sure what the correlation is between a female canine and the pejorative descriptor usually used as a colloquialism, but its cadence sounds right, so I think I'm going to go with it."

Booth stood watching her, not quite sure what to make of Brennan's mini-rant. Finally, when she nodded at him, quite pleased with herself, he shook his head and said, "What the hell was that?"

"What the hell was what?" Brennan said.

"What the hell was that little tirade all about, Bones?" Booth asked her. "You want to tell me what's got you in a bitchy huff or do I need to guess now?"

"Okay, you know what? I've had enough, Booth," Brennan said, pointing at him. "I don't need you calling me bitchy on top of everything else. So, you want to know that this was murder? Well, fine. You've got your official call, Booth. It's murder. I can't say for certain, but it looks like a sharp object severed his carotid artery before body was doused with an accelerant and set on fire. So, if you think you can actually do your job and make the call to get enough of the FBI techs here to supervise the Park Police in getting the remains down from the scaffolding and send everything back to the Jeffersonian, that'd be very helpful," she told him. "Preferably without compromising any of the evidence." Shaking her head, unable to help herself, Brennan muttered under her breath, "Of course, if you'd done your job in the first place, I'd be able to do my job like I need to instead of doing it like some second-rate field details would, but frankly, since I know you've got a fucking schedule to keep, we can't worry about things like professionalism or standards, right?"

Brennan almost chuckled at the pun as she pictured Booth working to get on with his scheduled fucking of his stupid blonde girlfriend.

Standing up, Brennan grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder.

"We're done here, Booth. Good luck with your attempt to get laid. Hopefully, your sexual endeavors will be more satisfying than mine have been recently," Brennan said.

Booth looked at her dumbfounded. At last he uttered a single phrase: "What the fuck, Bones?"

"What?" she asked. "This is what you want, right? You've got the info that you need from me—you've used me just like you did at the courthouse today to get what you want—a confirmation that this is a homicide. Now, you can go about your business and get back to your rather bland girlfriend."

With a sigh, Booth's brain was in such chaos at her unexpected responses that he didn't know where to begin, and so merely latched onto the last statement that Brennan had made. "For your info, Bones, she's not my girlfriend."

"Ahhh," Brennan inclined her head. "Perhaps you prefer a more informal colloquialism. Something like...'fucky-buddy', perhaps?" She shrugged and then said, "Either way, it doesn't matter to me, Booth. You're free to go."

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>

* * *

><p><em>Oh boy. I'm not sure that was quite what you all expected.<br>But you know where we're going with this.  
>(You just don't know exactly how we're gonna get there.)<br>_

_But, of course, there's more fun yet to come.  
>Three more chapters worth of fun at the Washington Monument.<br>_

_::**snort**:: _

_Folks, let me be absolutely clear: Lesera128 and I **live** for reader reviews.  
>We love to hear what people think of our work. <em>

_More reviews = happier writers = quicker updates._

_You know what to do, people. Click that little review button down there._

_Yep, right down there.  
>That's the one.<em>


	2. 2—Desecrating a National Monument, Pt II

**A Very Bad Idea**

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><p><strong>By:<strong> dharmamonkey & Lesera128  
><strong>Rated: <strong>M  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>Ummm, nope, we still don't own anything. We have, however, apparently become squatters in the sandbox that we crashed... so, umm... yeah. There we go.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Here we are again, doing our usual B&B + angst = eventual _yowzah  
><em>

**UNF alert**: Like we said before, this four-part piece (the first "scenario" in a group of unrelated works lumped together as one work) is angsty, angry and unf. If you don't like the angsty and angry, we can safely say that you won't enjoy the unf. If you can endure the angst and the anger, you'll be duly rewarded with what the authors humbly consider some of the tastiest B&B unf ever unleashed on FFN. So, however you decide, consider yourself warned.

So, we've jettisoned Stires, but there's one other person we've got to deal with before we can get to the main action. Yep. Another Booth blonde bites the dust... _[insert sound of cheering crowd noise here]_

_Now where were we? Oh yeah__—__at the Washington Monument!_

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><p><strong>I. Desecrating a National Monument, Part II<strong>

**Pertinent Details on Scenario #1****: **Set in season 1, at the very end of episode 1x08: "The Girl in the Fridge."

* * *

><p>Taking a step towards her, Booth's eyes hardened as he said, "Now, I know that you <em>didn't <em>just dismiss me, because that would be a bit much, even for you, Bones."

"I'm treating you in the same disrespectful manner you treated me, Booth," she told her partner. "It's not a very nice feeling, is it?"

"Look, I apologized," Booth growled. "I apologized for that already, Bones, and you accepted the apology, so get off the martyr's cross already, okay? It's not Easter, and we're not doing the Stations of the Cross, alright?" He took a deep breath, smirking as he wondered if she had any idea what he was talking about. He shook his head and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Look, if I'd had it to do over again, I might've been able to think of something else to get you to do what you needed to do on the stand today, but it's not like I had a lot of time, and you haven't exactly been in the most of approachable moods ever since you took to playing doctor with the pretty-boy professor from Chicago."

"You're trying to blame this on me?" Brennan asked, her anger growing. "Oh, that just makes perfect sense, Booth." She shook her head, clenching her fists at her side. "You men are all alike. You take what you want, when you want it, and leave the rest without any consideration or forethought—"

Booth again took another step towards her. His jaw had tightened and he said, "Now, I know you didn't just compare me to that jagoff Stires, because if you did, Bones, that would _really _piss me off. I'm _nothing _like him."

"Well," Brennan began. "You're both male, and you've both used me to get what you want, and then casually tossed me aside, when you were done with me without a second damn thought as to what your actions did to me. So, I'd say that makes the comparison pretty a propos_,_Booth. Now, we're done here." She paused and stared at him, then added, "Good luck with fucking Tessa—have a good night," Brennan said with a curt nod. She then moved and began to make her way down the scaffolding in the way she had carefully scaled it just a short time earlier. She was halfway down the access ladders to the base of the Monument before Booth swallowed enough of his anger to call out after her.

"Bones!" he looked down and saw the world spin a bit at the height. "This conversation isn't finished."

"Yes, it is!" Brennan yelled up at him.

"Get your ass back here!"

Brennan ignored him, and she continued on, making her way down to the ground. Booth hurried after her, quickly picking up speed as he followed her hasty escape. When her feet hit the ground, she knew she had two choices—either flee to the outer perimeter and deal with nosy park rangers or retreat up fifty flights of stairs since the Monument's elevators had been disconnected. Brennan had already been in the observation room once since she and Booth had initially thought it to be a part of the crime scene. But, after her initial survey of the room with her UV light cleared it of any forensic significance within minutes after the two had arrived on the scene, they had claimed the room as a makeshift base of operations and left a large majority of her gear in the room. It was to that safe haven that Brennan decided to go. Hoping that Booth wouldn't follow her and that she might just be left alone, she headed for the interior of the Monument.

The Washington Monument was designed by architect Robert Mills in the 1840s to commemorate President George Washington. Standing at a height of just over 555 feet, the cornerstone was laid on July 4, 1848, although building wasn't completed until almost thirty years later. The Monument opened in 1888, and had undergone a number of upgrades and renovations over the many years of its lifespan. As the tallest structure in D.C., its size sometimes was misleading to those who opted to climb the stairs instead of riding the elevators that had been in place since its opening. However, with the power shut off, Brennan didn't really have a choice if she wanted to escape Booth and not deal with nosy NPS Park Police. A wave of emotion and the words "_run away_"—which three syllables rolled through her mind, over and over again, like some kind of Vedic chant—spurred her on in a cloud of instinctual action. For a few minutes, she didn't know what she was doing or why, aside from getting away from Booth as far and as fast as she could.

_Run, run, run, _the voice chanted in her head. The instinct for self-preservation spurred her sprint up the first dozen flights of the Monument's stairs. However, despite the fact that she was in excellent physical condition, and adrenaline was spurring her on, by the time she was halfway up the stairs, Brennan was feeling quite a bit winded. She stopped, allowing herself to take several deep breaths to bring some solace to the mild stitch in her side. The instinctual haze that had driven her halfway up the Monument's stairs started to fade as she took solace in the silence of the stairwell.

_Maybe I'm being stupid. Maybe...I don't know what's gotten into me, but maybe_—_maybe this is just silly_—

However, Brennan's thoughts were lost—as had her feel for the amount of time that had passed since she left Booth on the Monument's scaffolding—when she heard the faint, but steadily increasing heavy footfall echo in the Monument's access stairway. _Tell me he didn't follow me. Shit_, Brennan said, redoubling her efforts. _He did, didn't he?_

Another surge of adrenaline jolted her forward, and Brennan's mind was concentrated only on getting away from Booth as she heard the echo of his heavy footsteps come closer and closer—clearly indicating that he was gaining on her. Brennan felt a stitch in her chest as she continued climbing higher and higher and was almost passed out from exhaustion when she reached the final landing. A ray of hope blossomed in her chest as she saw the door to the observation room, but that hope was cruelly massacred when she heard Booth's voice bellow out.

"Bones!" he yelled. "Stop right there!"

For some reason, she couldn't move her legs when her brain commanded them to move. Brennan, irritatingly, found herself rooted to the spot on the final landing, and that was how Booth eventually discovered her when he reached the landing. Sweat beading on his forehead, his chest heaving with the efforts of his unexpected physical exertions, he pointed at her and grunted, "885 of 897 steps, Bones," as he leaned over with this hands on his thighs. "Now, you're going to tell me what the hell is going on, and why you're acting this way—and why—"

He stopped, struggling for breath.

"—and why...why you said all that crazy shit out there. But—"

He paused again and swallowed, his thirst so bad that it was almost unbearable as his throat felt like sandpaper.

"First, let's start with the fact that since you know I fucking hate it when suspects make me chase them, why the fuck did you just make me climb 885 goddamn steps?"

"I didn't make you do anything," Brennan sneered at him. "You choose to follow me—"

"Oh, spare me that bullshit, Bones," Booth grunted. "I mean, really. You knew I'd follow as soon as you started spouting that shit about my personal life—which was _way _inappropriate, by the way, but we'll set that aside for the moment."

"Inappropriate?" Brennan told him. "You're saying _I'm _the inappropriate one, Booth? You're the one who did the shitty thing by rubbing my face in the lapse in judgement by what happened with Michael, this week—"

"And you're the one who called my girlfriend a 'fuck buddy'," Booth retorted.

"I thought you said she wasn't your girlfriend," she said, narrowing her eyes skeptically.

"She's not," Booth grunted, looking away from her. "Not as of about two days ago, if you really need to know."

The words took Brennan by surprise. "What?"

"You heard me," Booth said, his voice low as he held his jaw firmly. "I'm not repeating it."

Shaking her head, Brennan said, "Well, my apologies on your recent severance of your sexual partnership, Booth." She paused and then added, "Don't worry though. I'm sure you'll find another carbon-copy uptight blonde to fill Tessa's space in your bed in no time."

Booth's eyes widened at her words and he threw up his hands. "You know what? I don't even know why I'm surprised anymore. I shouldn't be, given the great capability you've got to spew bullshit out of your mouth, Bones." He looked away, sighed, then turned to her again. "But, here's a good piece of advice that I suggest you take, free, completely on the house: sometimes it's a really good idea to shut your goddamn mouth about certain things, alright? And now would be one of them."

Shaking her head, Brennan said, "I'm done being told what to do by anyone, least of all by a man."

"You are such a control freak," Booth replied. "You know what? I get that you've had a shitty week, Bones. Even if it's partially your fault, and you brought it upon yourself by throwing in with someone like Stires, I get that it sucks. But, you know what? You're not the only one who's had bad shit happen to them this week. So, maybe you need to take your head out of your ass for once and consider the fact that you aren't the center of the goddamn universe."

"Go screw yourself, Booth," Brennan said. "Of course, I know that I'm not the center of the universe. The heliocentric model of cosmology and planetary movement—"

Booth groaned. "And, another thing, while we're at it—maybe you wouldn't have such a hard time with things if you didn't try to always make everyone else feel like an idiot by spouting those squinty fun facts of yours every five seconds, huh?"

"I'm never changing how I am for a man ever again, Booth," Brennan said, with a tilt of her jaw. "If you don't like it, you can go to your metaphorical hell."

"Like I said, a complete and utter control freak, Bones," Booth said.

"I'm not a control freak—"

Booth snorted loudly at that. "Right. You know what, Bones? If the shoe fits, maybe you need to get down off that pedestal you've been perched on for God knows how long and wear it. Because, I gotta say, I don't even remember when you turned into this inflexible, arrogant, egotistical, sanctimonious idget—"

"'Idget'?" Brennan immediately snapped. "And, what in the hell is an idget, Booth? Or, did you just make up another word again to make you seem smarter than you really are?"

"Oh, I get it," Booth smirked. "I hit a nerve, and you get even more defensive than you were, so you make fun of my intelligence since you think that's the only thing you've got on me."

_Wait, that came out totally wrong, _he thought with a frown. _Whatever._

"Ha!" Brennan snorted. "If you think I think that intelligence is the only thing I've got on you, you're an even bigger idiot that I originally thought—which would be hard to top, Booth, because I think your pretty fucking idiotic most of the time!"

Pointing at her, Booth said, "For your information, no, I did _not _make up that word. And, if you want to know what an idget is, than I suggest you go look in the mirror, baby, because an idget is what'll be staring right back at you."

_"Oooooh,"_ Brennan mocked him. "I suppose I'm supposed to feel intimidated or hurt because you threw some big bad old made-up insult at me."

"I didn't make that up," Booth insisted. "But, if you want to know why you're an idget, as in an idiotic moron—"

"That's a redundant statement," Brennan interrupted him dryly. "Since an idiot is a moron, you're repeating yourself."

Booth's mouth snapped open as he stopped to say something, and then he promptly closed it before he pressed it into a hard thin line again. Shaking his head, he grimaced as he wagged his finger at her. "Like I said, Bones, whatever you prefer...idiot, moron, idget, borderline personality case—I think they all fit pretty well where you're concerned."

"And, you're doing what you always do in situations where you feel threatened, Booth," Brennan retorted. "You have a strong personality in front of you, a strong _female _personality, and you resort to bullying her into submission. Well, you know what, Booth? You maybe able to bully a vapid personality like Tessa into submission, but not me. I'll _never _let you bully me into submission."

"Of course, Bones," he said. "Don't worry about me, alright? The day that I ever have anything to do with you that's anything but professional is the day that hell's frozen over, Bones, so as long as you keep doing your job and I keep doing mine, I'm not too worried about not having to bully you into submission."

Brennan stared at him, narrowing her eyes in disbelief at his words, but chose to de-emphasize their apparent importance by ignoring them and continuing with her own train of thought. "I mean, seriously, what kind of woman would let a man take her to a crime scene on a date anyway?" Brennan asked, the question that had been irking her since she'd seen Tessa—this time fully dressed at the Randall Hall's dance club. "I mean, you can't be _that _good a fuck that any woman who was worth any substantial time or effort would put up with that kind of treatment." Brennan paused and then narrowed her eyes again. "Of course, we both know that you do have a tendency to chose the safer type of women, right, Booth? You always prefer the ones you can control, the ones that never challenge you, right?"

"And, what about you, Bones?" Booth tossed back at her, becoming even more angry as he felt each moment pass. "What about the two-bit poseurs like Stires? When was the last time you were fucked by someone with an IQ that was lower than yours, but actually could make you come so you didn't have to get yourself off afterwards?"

His mouth snapped shut immediately, both his surprise and her own clear as they realized what he'd just said.

"You and Michael," she sneered. "You two should have just laid them out there on the exam table back at the lab, Booth. You might have saved me and each other a lot of extra trouble." She shook her head. "Male sexual competitiveness. It's such insipid nonsense. All of it—always the same. All of you..."

"Sexual what?" Booth asked, raising an eyebrow and shaking his head. "What a goddamn crock, Bones. I am not threatened by Michael Stires in the least fucking bit. Never was, never will be. _Ever. _You can take that to the bank." He laughed derisively. "Competition with that numbnut? Hell, we aren't even playing the same sport."

"Of course you're competing with him," she said. "Even I can see you're jealous of him, the way you two were posturing—"

"What?" Booth snapped.

"Forget it, Booth," she said. "You and your alpha male crap. You _and _Stires. Neither of you are as fucking great—or as great at fucking, no doubt—as you think you are. In the end, it's all about buttressing your over-inflated male egos." She paused and then added, "Maybe that's why Tessa pulled the plug, _ehhhh, _Booth? In the end, maybe all your manly posturing was all sound and fury, signifying nothing, because when it came to sealing the deal, you—"

"What?" Booth's jaw grew so tight with anger, his temples ached. "What the fuck, Bones? Seriously? You think you're in any position to throw that shit at me? Because, you know what? You don't know a goddamn thing about me, Bones, and you never will—"

"Oh, please, Booth," Brennan sneered. "It's not like you're that complicated a creature to understand." She stopped and then wagged her finger at him. "For example, this conversation is a perfect example of how predictable your behavior is because you actually are such a simple creature. You've had your masculinity challenged at the insinuation that you're unable to function sexually as a human male should in a situation where copulation is involved. However, instead of feeling confident enough in your own sexual prowess to discuss the issue rationally, you've become defensive. Now, the more interesting question is why? Is it, perhaps, because there _has _been some trouble at home?" She stopped, narrowing her eyes at him as she said in a softer, silkier, and infinitely more infuriating voice, "It's okay, Booth. What was it...performance anxiety? Or, did Tessa just not have enough patience to deal with premature ejaculation on your part? It's quite common, you know. It happens all the time. I speak from first-hand experience since Michael was consistently too sensitive to last for very long unless we took precautions to desensitize him. Perhaps Tessa was just tired of having to coddle you sexually?"

_What?_

"You know what, Bones?" Booth growled, biting each word as he held his hands up. "I really don't want to hear about the details of your disappointing sex life with Professor Osteodork, okay? Unlike Quick Draw McGraw there, my equipment works just fine, thanks. What happened between me and Tessa had nothing to do with my stamina, okay?"

"You would say that, wouldn't you, Booth?" Brennan said. "It's not like you'd admit it if you had any sexual deficiencies, would you?"

"Sexual deficiencies?" Booth said, his face suddenly deeply flushed, but not in embarrassment. "No deficiencies here, Bones. My tackle works just fine. Very well, in fact. Though I suppose, you being a scientist and all, you won't be satisfied until you've had a chance to validate that statement with some kind of test, right? But I doubt, you know, that you'd have any desire to test that theory, huh—?"

Booth raised his eyebrows and pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he waited for her response. _How 'bout them apples, huh, Bones?_

Brennan pursed her lips at his implied offer. "I can't believe you just said that," she told him. "You asshole."

"What are you talking about, Bones?" Booth spat. "You're the one who just spent the last two minutes going on and on about my sexual inadequacies, a subject that is _(a)_ breathtakingly inappropriate and_ (b)_ one you know absolutely nothing about when it comes to what Seeley J. Booth can or can't do in bed. So, if anyone is flying the asshole flag here, Bones, it ain't me. You, on the other hand, well—"

"You know what? I've already made one mistake this week because I got caught up in wanting to fuck a very good-looking brunette, Booth. You all think you can just stand there looking like you do and make me go wet with one damn blink of your eyes and an easy grin." A smirk flashed across Booth's mouth then vanished. "Well, I've got news for you—it's not happening again."

He raised an eyebrow. _Well, that's a pity, huh?_

"So, fine," Brennan said, her nostrils flaring. She threw her hands up and turned to walk away. "Fine. Like I said, we're done here, and I've had enough of this—"

_I've had enough of this..._

Booth stared at her, unable to believe she'd actually just said the words that he thought he had heard come out of her mouth. He pressed his lips into a thin, stubborn line as his mind momentarily flashed to a prior conversation that had strangely echoed Brennan's comments to him.

"_I've had enough of this, Seeley," Tessa told him._

_Booth stared at her, not quite believing he was having to deal with this after the day he'd had. _I'm so not in the mood for this. I'm really not, _Booth thought to himself._

_Tessa sat on his couch, looking up at him from over the edge of her laptop. She glanced at the clock again before she returned her gaze to him._

"_You're seriously going to choose to do this now, Tessa?" Booth asked with a heavy sigh. " Really? I haven't even been in the door long enough to take off my jacket or secure my gun, and you think by jumping on me like this that you're really going to get what you want?" _

_Raising an eyebrow, Tessa said, "Well, if I thought actually physically jumping on you might've made any difference, I think I probably would've done that, but we both know it's been a while since you, well_—_you know..."_

_His jaw tensed as his eyes narrowed, a hard glint coming into them. "No, Tessa. I don't know," Booth almost growled. "You're gonna have to spell it out for me."_

"_Oh, come off it, Seeley," Tessa sighed, sitting a bit straighter as she set her laptop on the coffee table. "It's been weeks since we've done anything more than fool around in a way that I considered exciting when I was maybe, oh, say, around the age of 15. But, now_—_now, any time I've tried to push things into something a bit more interesting than second base, you've had issues, and we both know it." She stopped, pausing for a minute before she added, "I don't know why, but ever since you came back from Costa Rica, things have been off with us. Really off. I don't know how or why things are different, but they are, and I think we need to talk about it once and for all."_

_Booth felt his jaw completely tighten at the insult but took a breath, exhaling slowly through his nose as he tried to think of a way to respond that wasn't going to light off his rising anger like a thermite grenade. However, the more he thought about how to respond to Tessa's claims, the more he couldn't help but think as to how accurate her words actually were in describing how things had been going between them for a while. _She's right, _he thought_. She's right, and she's right that it's been a while. _Thinking particularly of the last image that her comment about second base meant, Booth tried to guess how many times he'd given her the too busy/too distracted/too tired litany of excuses to forestall having sex after the disaster of the last time they'd started fooling around._

_He thought back to one particular night he came in late after closing a case about a month ago, one they'd managed to wrap up fairly quickly. Things had gone pretty fast once Booth was able to nail the suspect in the interrogation room with a piece of physical evidence that his partner and her team at the Jeffersonian had managed to tease out from a half-rotten corpse that Customs and Border Protection found swimming in its own goo inside a shipping container at an export packing warehouse near the Port of Norfolk. _

_He'd arrived back at the apartment late, well past eleven, to find Tessa waiting for him with a lascivious grin on her lips and not wearing much else but one of his white dress shirts, completely unbuttoned. He had barely locked the front door and tossed his keys on the entryway table before she'd cornered him, peeled off his jacket and tie, and unbuttoned his pants before those lips had gone to work. She'd nearly swallowed him whole, and Booth watched her pale, thin lips slide up and down his cock, her tongue working the underside of him as he felt himself hit the back of her throat. _

_Under other circumstances, it would have been a maddeningly erotic experience, the kind that would have made Booth's eyes roll back in their sockets as she sucked him into lethal oblivion. But that night, the sucking, the licking, the tugging seemed almost irritating, because when he looked down at the face that had swallowed his dick, it wasn't the face he wanted to see. She must've sensed that he was not responding the way she wanted him to, that he was not actually as hard in her mouth as she expected him to be, because she began moving more quickly, licking him more vigorously, sucking him even harder. Which only made it worse._

_Booth squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, trying to jettison the memory. _

"_Why are you still fixating on Costa Rica?" Booth asked, raising his head as he looked over at her. "What's the big deal about that weekend?"_

"_I don't know, Seeley. You tell me," Tessa replied._

"_Or, how about let's not and just say we did, huh, Tessa? Because, I gotta tell you, after the day I've had, I'm too tired to_—"

"_Don't you dare," Tessa warned him. "Don't you dare try and duck using the tired excuse. I don't care if you've suddenly developed a life-threatening case of narcolepsy, Seeley. We're talking about this, and we're talking about this right now."_

"_I have no problem talking about this_—_whatever 'this' is, mind you_—_if you could explain to me what you're so fucking obsessed over the weekend I spent in Costa Rica_—_a trip you were supposed to go with me on, if you recall," Booth countered. "Remember that, Tessa? __You're_ _the one who cancelled on me, right?"_

_With a sigh, Tessa shook her head. "You know, Seeley, one of the things I've always loved about you is that, for the most part, it's no bullshit. What you see is what you get_—_but, I have to admit, that ever since you came back from Costa Rica_—_hell, probably even before that, really, things have been off between us."_

"_You're making a big deal out of nothing," Booth grumbled._

"_No," Tessa said slowly, with a shake of her head. "No, I don't think I am."_

"_Oh, really?" Booth said. "Then, if you want to cut the bullshit, Tessa. Let's cut the bullshit. What are you really trying to tell me?"_

"_I'm trying to figure out when I started to feel like a stranger in my own home," Tessa replied._

_Booth's eyes widened at her comment. "Your own home?" he responded, the surprise clearly evident in his voice._

"_Yes," Tessa nodded. "As in whenever I'm here, with you, it doesn't feel like this is our place anymore."_

"_That might be because it was never 'our' place, Tessa," Booth said. "This is my apartment, remember? You have your own place_—"

"_Oh, please," Tessa said, standing up as she became a tad bit more aggressive in her reaction to Booth as she felt her annoyance grow. "Cut the crap, Seeley. We both know that you were begging me to think about moving in two months ago. You were the one who said I should make myself at home when you gave me the key."_

"_Yeah," Booth said. "Sure. But, that was as in make yourself at home and feel comfortable when __you're here. But, I never meant feel so comfortable as in you should think you were living here."_

_Shaking her head, Tessa's body tensed as she said, "God, what's wrong with you? I have to admit, Seeley, I've spent the last week wracking my brain trying to figure out what's going on with you. But, the more I've thought about it, the more I've come to realize that maybe_—_maybe this isn't something that's just started since you came back_—"

_She paused, mentally replaying a number of scenes in her head as she thought back on the last few weeks of their relationship, and then suddenly stopped as she raised her head and met his eyes with a steely glare. _

"_You know what? This __has_ _been going on longer than just since you got back from Costa Rica. Now that I think about it, this has been going on ever since that night that damn science chick showed up here when we were in bed together, and_—_I still can't believe you did that, Seeley. I still can't believe that you got out of bed when we were having sex to go answer the goddamn door."_

_Booth sighed. "Are we really going to have __that_ _discussion again? I thought we'd settled that a a couple of weeks ago, Tessa."_

"_So sue me," Tessa retorted. "It's kind of a hard thing to get over when you're about to come, your boyfriend pulls out mid-stroke, throws a pair of pants on and disappears so fast that it makes your head literally spin. And, then, to add injury to insult, I had to trot my ass out of bed only after I've finished the job myself because you'd decided to start making goo-goo eyes at that weird scientist from the Jeffersonian who up and decided to show up at a completely inappropriate hour to talk about the 'case.'" The last word rolled off her tongue dripping with a dismissive venom._

"_It was work, Tessa. Just work," Booth said, resisting the urge to grind his teeth. "I told you that, I explained_—_we had that case, and Bones just wanted_—"

"_You know," Tessa said, shaking her finger at Booth. "That's another thing. You've worked with a lot of different people at the Bureau over the years. That's what you told me, right?"_

"_Yes," Booth said hesitatingly, resisting the urge to want to start banging his head against the wall from the frustration Tessa was making him feel. "What's your point?"_

"_Just this, Seeley_—_how many of those people, before the anthropologist, were special enough that you gave them a nickname?" Tessa asked, leveling her gaze at him. "Seriously? How many?"_

_Booth set his jaw firmly, determined not to take the bait. "She's my partner," he said. "I told you. That's it. We work together_—"

"_So, is that your way of saying you're not going to answer the question?" Tessa said._

"_Why?" Booth countered. "I'll answer the damn question if you can actually explain to me what in the hell the big deal is."_

"_How many coworkers have you given nicknames to before her?" Tessa pressed._

_He narrowed his eyes and then said, "Just her." Booth stopped and then added, "So that's all you __want to hear, right, Tessa? That whatever's going wrong between us has to do with the fact that I want to fuck another woman that's not you, right? That's what you really want to hear?"_

"_I want the truth," Tessa said, as she placed her hands on her hips and nodded at him, "And, since you don't seem to be in much of the mood to talk about the truth, I guess it's going to fall to me, again, because that's how it's been for a while now with us, Seeley_—"

"_Oh, that is just such complete and utter bullshit," Booth spat._

"_Is it?" Tessa asked. "Fact #1: We haven't had sex in almost a month."_

_Nodding at her, a slight flash of anger drove Booth as he quickly responded. "Jesus, Tessa. If that's all this is about, fine. You want to fuck? Fine. Let's do it. Right here, right now." He pointed to the place on the couch where she'd just been sitting a few minutes earlier. "I'm ready when you are. Get your ass over here, and let's see what happens, huh?"_

"_If I thought you'd actually get a full hard-on this time, I might take you up on that offer," Tessa told him with a dry, razor-sharp edge to her voice. _

_Booth grunted and squeezed his hands into such tight fists he felt his fingernails digging into his palms. He considered turning around and walking out the door, but at that moment, despite his boiling fury, refused to give her the satisfaction of driving him out of his own apartment. _

"_But, going to Point #2: Your slight obsession with the little spitfire doctor with the big mouth_—" _Stopping for a second, she shook her head slowly before continuing. "I knew it_—_I mean, as soon as you told me that your new partner was a woman, I knew something was off. And, then, as the weeks went on, you started get home later, your started cancelling our dates more often, and hell, like I said, I can't remember the last time_..."

_Booth's thoughts had drifted off as Tessa continued to rant. His mind floated back to the first case he and Brennan had worked together after he'd finally coaxed her into working with him again. He recalled how he'd found her in the gun range, standing in the lane on the end, her long, shapely legs set shoulder-width apart and her knees slightly bent as she ruthlessly unloaded on a paper target at a distance of thirty feet. She was a pretty good shot, he hated to admit_—_and he __really_ _did hate to admit that_—_but he did so grudgingly after she emptied the six-shot revolver accurately, hitting the target squarely in the middle of the chest. _

_She'd challenged him, dared him really. "You know," he told her. "Homicides, they're not solved by scientists. They're solved by guys like me asking a thousand questions a thousand times, catching people telling lies every time. You're great at what you do, Bones, but you don't solve murders. Cops do."_

_She'd leveled a piercing stare at him, her lips quivering slightly before she spoke. "Cleo Eller was killed on a cement floor sprinkled with diatomaceous earth. Traces of her blood will still be in that cement. One of us is wrong, maybe both of us. But if Bethlehem wasn't a Senator, you'd be right there in his basement looking for that killing floor. You're afraid of him. Your hypothesis is that squints don't solve murders and cops do. Prove it. Be a cop." _

_Booth remembered in vivid detail how his anger had flared at that moment, and how he felt the heat __rise from his cheeks to the tips of his ears at her comment. _

_But he had felt something else at that moment, something that muted the anger that simmered inside of him, as he stared into her pale eyes: a tingle at the base of his spine and an almost-uncontrollable urge to press into her with his hips. He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, his jaw moving ever so slightly as his lower lip twitched, and he bit back the compulsion to lean in and cover her mouth with his. At that moment, he'd wanted to peel that little jacket off of her, unzip her slacks and put his uninvited hard-on to good use nailing her against the wall of the gun range_—

_Booth bit back a groan as he was shaken from the memory by the irritating wail of Tessa's rampage._

_"...And then, if I definitely didn't know by the time when we had to leave dinner because she was about to be arrested for assaulting those officers who were just trying to do their jobs_—"

"_First," Booth interrupted her. "They were about to compromise the remains, and Bones gets more than a little bit touchy when that happens. Second, she wasn't about to be arrested. She was just...overly enthusiastic because she was high and that ruffled a few feathers the wrong way."_

"_See?" Tessa said, crossing her arms. "There you go."_

"_What?" Booth growled. "What now, Tessa? Because I seriously think that no matter what goddamn word comes out of my mouth, it's not going to do me one damn bit of good as far as you're concerned. So, what?"_

"_You're defending her again," Tessa said. "You're always defending her. And, I'm getting pretty damn sick and tired of it, Seeley. It was one thing when I was just dealing with your shitty hours because of the Bureau, but now, having to come in behind someone like her? Nope, I'm just not going to do it."_

"_Fine," Booth said, gesturing at her with both of his palms in the air in a gesture of resignation. "Fine, Tessa. You do what you want to do. You always do." He turned around and headed for the door._

"_Wait!" Tessa called out after him. "Where are you going?"_

"_Out," Booth muttered over his shoulder. "If you're here when I get back, fine. But, the bullshit stops after tonight, Tessa. Seriously, because I can't take anymore. If you're not here when I get back, that's fine, too. Just slide the key under the door when you leave. Either way, I don't care."_

"_That's it?" Tessa asked, hesitancy coming into her voice for the first time, as she started to comprehend that she'd overplayed her hand with Booth. "Seriously, Seeley? That's it?"_

"_Yeah, Tessa. It is, and I'm done," Booth said, before he opened up the front door, walked through it, and slammed the door without a backward glance. _

Not surprisingly, when he came back several hours later and more than slightly drunk, Tessa—and every sign of her but for the key that was waiting for him on his doormat when he unlocked the deadbolt and went inside his apartment—was gone. That had been two weeks ago, and now, now, in the wake of the appearance of Michael Stires, Booth was getting more than just a little fed up with how first Tessa and then Brennan had been treating him just because they thought they could get away with certain things.

"Okay, Bones," Booth muttered, "You know what? I'm getting pretty goddamn sick and tired of you dismissing me, so knock it the fuck off. Moreover, unless you're willing to put your money where you very big mouth is, I've had about all of your lip that I can handle tonight, so I suggest that unless you have something pertinent to say to the case, you keep your yap shut."

"My _yap_?" Brennan snapped. "Yap is an island in the Caroline Islands archipelago in the western Pacific." A sly smile broke across her face. "So, as you can see, it would be impossible for me to 'shut my yap' or keep it shut, as you so imperiously commanded, since I don't possess one, Booth." She paused and then tilted her head at him as she narrowed her eyes. "So, you want to see what other little witty retort you can fail to serve back to me, or should we just add verbal flacidity to your list of deficiencies right after the entry, or, I'm sorry—the _multiple _entries on your sexual inadequacies?"

"Well, Bones," Booth said. "I guess it wouldn't have mattered if I'd have given you my coat anyways, since it probably wouldn't have helped your frigidity one bit anyway. I don't even think a space heater or an acetylene torch would be able to help you on that one." He let the remark hang in the air before continuing. "So, wait—were you saying something about my sexual something-or-other?"

"Is that your way of implying that you think I'm cold in bed, Booth?" Brennan said, her jaw tight with fury. "Something about being an ice queen, perhaps? As if I haven't heard _that _one before—"

"I don't know, Bones," he replied. "You tell me. Are you?"

"Don't be a pussy, Booth. If you have a question to ask me, ask the damn question," Brennan asked. "Or, are you too much of a pussy to actually do what you need to do to get the job done?"

"You—" Booth was so exasperated he couldn't think of an appropriately clever response.

Brennan laughed at him again, this time with a throaty laugh, as she threw her head back and exposed her neck. The sight of the curve of creamy flesh proved too much for Booth as she nailed his proverbial coffin shut with her final words.

"Yes, I'm me, and since I'm me, I'll always be better than you—so what do you have to say about that, Booth?"

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>

* * *

><p><em>What <span>will<span> Booth have to say about that?  
>Or are we past words at this point?<em>

_(You can only hope...)  
><em>

_Well, now that we've gotten Tessa out of the way,  
>you know where we're going with this...<em>

_You do—right?_

_There's more fun yet to come.  
>Two whole chapters worth!<br>_

_And the real good stuff is yet to come.  
><em>

_::**snort**:: _

_So, do you people want to see  
>these two get down to business?<em>

_Well..._

_You know what to do, people.  
>Click that little review button down there.<em>

_Yep, right down there._

_That's the one._


	3. 3—Desecrating a Nat'l Monument, Pt III

**A Very Bad Idea**

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><p><strong>By:<strong> Lesera128 & dharmamonkey  
><strong>Rated: <strong>M  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>Ummm, nope, we still don't own anything. We have, however, apparently become squatters in the sandbox that we crashed... so, umm... yeah. There we go.

* * *

><p><strong>dharmamonkey's AN: **Here we are again, doing our usual B&B + angst = eventual _yowzah_

I want to take the chance to give a shout-out to my partner-in-crime, **Lesera128**, who is not just my coauthor but who has, over the last few months, become a good friend. (We found out towards the end of writing **Costly Signals** that we live a mere five miles apart. If that isn't the "weirdest coinkydink ever," I don't know what is.)

She's a tremendously talented writer in her own right (I am absolutely in love with her clever-as-hell AU piece **Buried with the Bones**, which inspired me to proposition her to co-write with me), and she challenges me to take my writing, and my favorite fanfic subject Seeley J. Booth, in directions I'd probably never have the gumption to try if left to my own devices. There's no doubt in my mind that, since we started writing together in September, she's made me a better writer. This piece, **A Very Bad Idea** and in particular this first scenario is really her brainchild (a characterization she disputes, but I maintain that all I did was throw the fuzzy yellow ball onto the court; she really took the first serve, of which this crazy piece is the result).

So let's hear a round of applause for **Lesera128**, folks!

Also, I want to give a shout-out to all the people who've read and reviewed this fic so far, and who have read/reviewed our other wacky collaborations (**Costly Signals**, **Cognitive Dissonance** and **When She Ran Away**), and to all of the crazy Bones fanfic fanatics who follow/tolerate me on Twitter. Reviews and other reader feedback is what fuels our muse to keep cranking out these crazy fics.

**UNF alert**: Okay_, _so here we go. This chapter starts the good stuff you've been waiting for. We're not quite done with the angsty, angry bickering, but you'll be happy to know that these two are about to spend less time talking and more time doing. Previous warnings still apply. If you were dilly-dallying about getting that NFPA-approved fire extinguisher handy, we strongly recommend you take a moment now to ensure proper fire suppression equipment is available, because it's gonna get really warm really quickly.

_Now, where were we? Ah, yes: in the observation room at the top of the Washington Monument!  
><em>

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><p><strong>I. Descecrating a National Monument, Part III<strong>

* * *

><p>Booth felt his heart race, and as he normally did when running on adrenaline and pure emotion, he moved instinctively, his muscles going into action without a moment's thought. He took a sharp step into her personal space, clearly violating it as he leaned into her, pressing her against the wall with his pelvis as he bent his head and roughly covered her mouth with his. He felt her begin to protest as her lips moved beneath his, then she relaxed into his kiss, opening her mouth as her tongue slid over his lip into his waiting mouth.<p>

For a split second, Brennan allowed herself to revel in the warmth of a man's tongue greedily seeking out hers. _God, this feels good_—_really, really good. _She lost herself, somewhat uncharacteristically, in the moment as she only concentrated on the wonderfully sensual emotions and physical sensations Booth's kiss evoked in her. _Ohhh, wow. I can't remember the last time I was kissed like this_—_have I ever been kissed like this? No_—_no, I haven't. Wow_. However, when she heard him growl deeply in the back of his throat, his arrogant presumptuousness stoked the fire of her righteous indignation. _I'm being kissed, but the person who's kissing me is Booth_—_and, when did this happen? I didn't give him permission to kiss me. I didn't give him any indication whatsoever that I wanted him to kiss me. Why did he do this? How dare he? How dare he! _Shereached forward, clenching a handful of his black wool overcoat in each of her fists, and for a minute, Booth thought she was going to yank him further into her. However, never one to let him think he could consistently anticipate her, Brennan surprised him by pulling him forward and then shoving him as hard as she could away from her. _Enough!_

When they broke apart, Brennan's opened fists remained half-raised in the air as she stared at Booth, her eyes flashing with strong emotion. Her lips were bee-stung with his hard, sucking kisses, and the sensitive skin of her cheek had been rubbed slightly raw by the roughness of his five o'clock shadow. Struggling to regulate her short, quick breaths, she broke eye contact with Booth as she shook her head.

"I can't believe you just did that," Brennan finally sputtered, her breath falling in pants. Her eyes purposely refused to break contact with Booth's, but she gave a small shake of her head, the disbelief clearly evident as she repeated her initial statement. "I can't believe you just did that."

"Oh, believe it, Bones," he told her as if he were giving her the time or some other factual bit of information. "And, believe that I'm going to do it again in about three seconds," he said, slowly leaning in closer, his demeanor cocky even for Booth.

"Why in the hell did you just do that?" she said, looking up at him, the anger clear in her eyes. _You had no right, none whatsoever to make such a presumption that I wanted you to even touch me, let alone kiss me like that_—

"You've just spent the last twenty minutes all but outright saying I can't get it up, Bones—then...then you called me a pussy. Really?" He glared at her, almost defying her to tell him that what'd he done was out of line, let alone unwanted. "What do you expect me to do?" Booth shot back.

"I don't particularly care so long as you keep you goddamn lips to yourself. You had no right." She narrowed her eyes at him, as she finally verbalized some of her earlier thoughts. Then, she felt her stomach flip flop a bit as she thought of his prior offer and the way he was looking at her now—there could be no mistaking the sight she saw burning in Booth's eyes. Lust. Desire. Want. _Lust, desire, want...because of me?_ "Why did you really do that?"

Not to be challenged by her again, Booth, also breathing in short gasps, shook his head and countered with a question of his own. "Why did I do that? I told you, Bones. You can believe it or not, but the more important question here is why in the hell did you break away?"

"Because!" Brennan's head shot up as she leveled his gaze at him again. _I'm done being used by men for their own purposes. I will __not_ _be used again. _"You had no right to kiss me like that—"

"Maybe I didn't when I started," he admitted with a wry smile, "but by the end there, when I felt your tongue molesting my tonsils, I think I got all the permission I needed, Bones."

The implication that she had not only responded to his kiss, but had liked it enough to reciprocate left Brennan a bit off kilter. "You insufferable, arrogant, primitive male hominid!" Brennan finally managed to spit at him. "Just because, for a split second, I forgot who was kissing me doesn't meant that I wanted you to do it—or that I liked it when you kissed me, Booth. Because, I didn't, in case you're wondering."

"Oh, right," Booth chuckled. "You really expect me to buy that one, Bones? You really think I'm going to believe that you didn't like the way I just kissed you? Look, Bones, I didn't just fall off the turnip truck yesterday, okay? I kinda know what it feels like when the person I'm kissing likes it." He stopped and then pointed at her as he said, "And, not only did you like it, you fucking loved it."

"No," she protested. "No, I didn't," Brennan said, trying to empty her voice of as much emotion as possible. "As I've long suspected, it was sub par—at best."

"Sub par?" he snorted. "What, do you play golf now? Because I sure as hell thought we were playing tonsil hockey there."

"Not everything in life can be reduced to a hockey metaphor, Booth," Brennan told him. "And, more importantly, there's no way you can prove I felt otherwise than as I just described."

Booth shook his head at her final comment, then chuckled as he pointed an accusing finger at her. "_Uh-huh. _Right," he said, his voice taking on the lilt that she'd heard so many times in the interrogation room as he backed a suspect into a proverbial corner with a group of cleverly-crafted questions. "So, I suppose you're going to tell me that _that _is just because you're cold, huh?"

Brennan didn't need to stare down at her chest to see where Booth was pointing at the tell-tale early signs of her sexual arousal. She'd felt the tight peaks of her nipples pressed tightly through the thin Lycra material of her bra and the flimsy blue nylon of the Jeffersonian field jumpsuit for several minutes as her sensitivity increased—and so too did her desire...for him, though she loathed to admit it.

"Thank you for pointing out the obvious, Captain Hindsight," Brennan said with a roll of her eyes. Booth grinned at her for a minute, daring her to logically explain away to two tight nubs visible through the thin material of her jumpsuit. _Okay, I know when I'm caught, Booth. Fine. _Shaking her head, Brennan sighed. "You can be such a dick sometimes, Booth," she said, as she hurriedly crossed her arms over her chest and resumed her earlier defensive posture.

"Well, Bones," he laughed. "If we've proven anything thus far tonight, it's that you don't know anything about my dick."

Shaking her head, Brennan ignored the taunt. Looking up at him, she said, "Don't ever do that again, by the way."

"Do what, Bones?" Booth asked as he narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. "Just so that we're clear here, what is it that you don't want me doing again?"

"Try to kiss me again, and I'll break your arm," Brennan said simply.

"As if you could," Booth belittled her, although both of them knew that she was perfectly capable of carrying out her threat. Deciding to take a different tack, Booth said, "So, let me get this straight—you _didn't _like kissing me?"

"No," Brennan replied. "And, I never want to go through that mediocre experience again."

"Oh, okay," Booth said. "My mistake then, because that whole tangling tongues, sucking lips, latching onto my face until you can't hold your breath any more thing kinda fooled me." He grinned at her again as he fell silent once more.

"Don't you dare try to kiss me again," Brennan told him. _But, let's be honest here_—_I think I'm more uncertain what'll happen to __us,_ _not to __you__, if you do, Booth_—_so tread lightly. I told you, I wasn't feeling very generous today, and I know that means enough to know that I'm not certain what'll happen if you keep pressing me. _"I won't be held responsible for what I'll do to you if you try to do that again, so consider that your fair warning."

_"Ooooh,_ I'm shaking here, Bones," Booth mocked her again with a snort. "I'm really frightened. But, you know what? You're right. There is no way in hell that I will _ever _kiss you again, even if someone paid me—"

Taking a step towards him, Brennan uncrossed her arms and placed them on her hips. "Oh, go ahead, Booth. Go ahead and insult me. Say what you want, when we both know that now you're the one who's lying." She stopped and her eyes narrowed a bit, as did her voice, as she said, "I know when a man's physically attracted to me, Booth. Your pupils are dilated, your respiration's shallow, your skin is flushed, and then there is the matter of that little physical response of your own that is quite noticeable."

She pointed to the bulge in his trousers. Booth shrugged and said simply, "Normal physical response when a guy's playing a round of tonsil hockey, Bones. It wouldn't matter who I was kissing, it's just one of—ya know—your normal 'biological responses,' right?"

_You are so full of shit, _Brennan thought. She then snickered as she said, "Bullshit. Admit it, Booth. I know that all you want to do right now is throw me back up against that wall and see what else you can make my body do aside from having my nipples peak. I dare you—"

"No, no, no," Booth laughed, a smirk still on his face as he waved his hand dismissively as he began to turn away. "There's no need for me to do that, Bones, because I'm never kissing you again. So, just like you want, I will keep my dirty, presumptuous, dickish lips to myself, and they won't bother you again, thank you very much. Hell will freeze over before I—"

The gauntlet thrown down in front of her, this time it was Brennan who snapped as she was the one who actually proceeded to do exactly what she had just described by way of action to Booth. He had hardly realized that she'd moved before he found his back pressed against the wall of the narrow stairwell as Brennan leaned into him and pressed her lips hard over his with only one goal in mind—to devour him. A deep growl rumbled in his chest as he opened his mouth to her invading tongue and winced at the warm flash of desire that pulsed behind his navel. He reached his hands up and cupped her face between his warm palms, pulling her lips even tighter against his as he felt her hip grind against his thigh.

A loud grunt—whether of frustration, aggression or desire, Booth could not say—sounded from her throat as their tongues battled in the warm, wet space between their open mouths. She reached up and yanked his hands away from her head with another, slightly softer grunt, all the while never breaking the kiss. Finally, Booth pulled away, gasping for breath as a crooked smile broke across Brennan's face. Seeing the wicked glint in her pale eyes, a raw tingle shot up his spine and he felt himself get even harder as he slid his hands down to her waist. Curling his fingers around each of her hips, the calloused pads of his fingertips stroking the smooth nylon of her jumpsuit, he hesitated as he waited to see whether she would move to resume kissing. She narrowed her eyes and, with a tilt of her head, leaned in again and brought her mouth to his, her lips hovering in front of his for a fraction of a second as she hesitated, their mouths crashing together as he simultaneously moved to meet her kiss.

It quickly ceased to be clear who was kissing whom as their mouths grasped one another hungrily. Booth squeezed Brennan's hips with his hands and growled quietly as she moaned into his mouth at the sensation. She squirmed slightly at feeling his large, strong hands grasp her that way, but as she felt a rush of warmth pulse at her center, she moved her own hands from where they lay against his lower back to the front of his waistband. She tugged at his embossed antique brass U.S. Army belt buckle, trying futilely to release the catch before breaking the kiss. She gritted her teeth and growled as she struggled with Booth's buckle.

"Bones," he murmured, moving his hands off of her hips to help her unbuckle him.

It was the first word that either had uttered in several long minutes.

As soon as he had unfastened his belt buckle, he exhaled a long breath that he had not realized, until that moment, that he had been holding. No sooner had the buckle fallen away from the front of his waistband when Brennan's urgent, skillful fingers had unfastened the top of his suit slacks and, without so much as a sound from her lips, quickly unzipped his fly.

"Bones," he snarled when his previous entreaty had failed to stop her. He punctuated his words with a swift twist of his hips. "Wait."

"Wait?" she hissed, her hand diving into the space between his warm skin and the soft jersey knit of his boxers. "Why am I waiting?" Brennan asked. "Fuck waiting," she ground out.

Booth leaned his head back and swallowed hard.

"_Unnnghh,_" was all he could muster in protest as she wrapped her fingers around his cock which, after several minutes of intense kissing, was almost painfully hard. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to collect all of the focus and willpower he could muster before shaking his head several times to try to clear the rising wave of his impending orgasm away without actually coming all over her hand. _Fuck, what's she doing to me? I'm not...this is not_—_she's not going to_—

"Oh, fuck," he moaned, as she began to pick up speed with the pleasurable friction of her light fingertips moving up and down his cock. With a low grunt, he sucked in a deep breath and knocked her hand away with his forearm, not realizing until it was too late that she had actually held him in a firm grip. "Dammit!" he hissed as she let go, perhaps more in surprise than because she actually wanted to release him. "Enough."

"Hardly," Brennan said. She then smirked at him as she said, "What's your problem, Booth? Is it too much for you?" she sneered, grinning mischievously as she watched him struggle to tuck his erection back into his boxers. "Am _I _too much for you?"

"Fucking hell, Bones," Booth groaned. "Will you please shut the fuck up for just a few goddamn seconds, please?"

"The only way I'm going to shut up is if you can do something that'll occupy my tongue," Brennan dared him.

As if his body had a mind of its own—and maybe it did with all of the blood flow going towards his second head—Booth suddenly slammed Brennan up against the wall again in response to her uttered challenge. He opened his mouth wide, drawing her lower lip into his mouth as he sucked on it like it was a ripe piece of fruit. She howled in quiet rage, her tongue pressing against his mouth, demanding entrance. Booth delighted in refusing her access, continuing to suck on her lower lip as she increased her efforts. His hands came up stealthily, and just when he opened his mouth and let his tongue dart out to caress Brennan's for just the briefest of moments, he moved his hands to her shoulders and then roughly pushed her away.

"Enough," he growled again. "I'm not fucking you standing up in a stairwell the width of a telephone booth," he snapped, looking down at his fly as he considered whether or not to zip himself up. "Alright?"

"No."

"Yes," he insisted.

"Now," she demanded. "I want—"

"No," he countered. "That little thing that you did just now may've worked with all your other boytoys, Bones, to get them to bend to your will, but I have my standards. This isn't happening in a goddamn stairwell."

Narrowing her eyes, Brennan leered at him as she said, "So, is this you're way of saying you're my boytoy now, Booth?"

"Like hell I am," he growled. "I'm no one's boytoy."

_"Ahhh,"_ Brennan said. "That's too bad. Because my so-called boytoys have been known to have a pretty fucking good time, with an emphasis on the 'fucking.'"

"Oh, I'll take the fucking good time, Bones," Booth told her. "Just not in this goddamn stairwell."

She licked her lips and laughed, her head rolling back a bit as she taunted him. "Who says you're going to fuck me?" she asked.

"Huh," he grunted with with a quick shake of his head. "Okay, so now you _don't _want me to fuck you?" He leveled his gaze at her, his dark brown eyes blazing like bits of obsidian. "Fine." He shrugged and glanced at his watch. "Well, if I leave right now, I might just be able to get home in time to catch the end of the Capitals-Maple Leafs game."

"You wouldn't dare," Brennan said, her eyes ablaze with a slow burning fury. "You wouldn't _dare_."

"Wanna try me?" Booth replied. "Unless you've got a better idea of something that might be a bit more entertaining—and interesting—than hockey to keep me here, huh, Bones?"

_And it sure as hell better be more than tonsil-hockey, _he said to himself. _Even though you're really, really good at that. Way better than I remember her kissing, too. I mean, I remember it was good—great, really—but that was just... _

_Wow._

"You know what?" Brennan said, pushing him away. "I really don't need this. Like I said earlier, after the bitch of a week I've had, it's probably better if I just take care of things myself." She stared at him with a tightly arched eyebrow. "So, drive safe, Booth. Don't worry about me, seeing as how the goddamn hockey game is more important. I'll call a taxi and see you later."

She punctuated her final words with a sharp shove as she pushed him away and bounded up the remaining flight of stairs that led to the Monument's observation room. She yanked open the door with a heavy grasp and then slammed it shut with a loud, forceful clank. The slamming of the door reverberated in the stairwell, and Booth stared at the top of the stairs at the door behind which Brennan had disappeared.

"What the fuck?" Booth growled, grabbing the banister and quickly moving to take the stairs two at a time. _Oh, hell, no_— "No way. There's just no fucking way in hell she's getting away with that—"

By the time he threw open the door and barreled through it, he saw Brennan waiting for him on the other side, facing the entryway, legs spread shoulder-width apart and her fists resting on her hips as she'd been waiting for him.

"Don't you dare," Booth growled, as he pointed his index finger at her. "Don't you dare run away from me. You don't get to run away from me, Bones."

"Says who?" Brennan volleyed back at him. "You're _not _the boss of me."

_You're not the boss of me? _he smirked. _What kind of lame-ass second-grade insult is that?_

Closing the gap between them in three long strides, Booth yanked her arm to him as he told her, "Says me, Bones. And, just for the record—" Looking back at her with a dark laughter in his eyes, he added, "It looks like I'm not gonna make it home for the last period of the hockey game, after all. Fortunately, there's always SportsCenter."

He swung her arm to the side and, dropping it carelessly, brought both of his hands up to her chest, cupping one of her breasts whole with each of his veiny, muscular hands. He squeezed them, a low moan rumbling in his throat as he enjoyed the way her flesh gave way beneath his touch. Drawing one of his thumbs in an arc across the prominent bud of her nipple, he felt the irksome presence of her jumpsuit's dangling zipper as it jingled quietly at being disturbed. The curious sound resonated somewhere deep inside Booth's brain—most likely somewhere beyond the reach of his rational, modern human mind—and at that moment, there were no words to describe the process by which he decided to reach for that zipper. In that moment—a moment itself beyond the concepts of time or space, bounded only by planes of emotional intensity and raging sexual desire—Booth lost his mind, and, jutting his lower lip out and furrowing his brow tightly, drawing it almost as a dark canopy over his eyes, he reached over and took the zipper pull between his thumb and forefinger.

"Such a pity they make you hide your wares under these terrible jumpsuits, Bones," he said, his voice somewhat warm until something darker, edgier, began to creep into his voice. "But now it's time to see what the Jeffersonian really sends to work with me everyday, huh?" And then, without waiting so much as a second, Booth held the teardrop-shaped steel zipper pull between his thumb and forefinger before giving it a hard yank that nearly made him reel backwards with the force of it.

As soon as the sound of the individual teeth combined into a single _zzzzzziiipppp _sound and the undone zipper opened her up from the base of her clavicle down, between her breasts—the very sight of which caused a tight, coiled tugging sensation behind his navel as he wondered what her skin would taste like if he could only have a taste of her—and then down past her creamy white stomach and almost to her perfect little belly button, and a wide grin broke across Booth's face. Just as the zipper seemed to come naturally to rest about an inch above her navel where the zipper-taped fabric buckled, Booth growled pulled the zipper up and then down again roughly, but achieved no better result.

"Dammit," Booth hissed, trying once more to move the zipper past the stubbornly bent teeth that were nearly twisted off. "Well, Bones," he said. "Clearly the Jeffersonian does not want its doctors and squinterns being able to get out of these suits."

"Or, perhaps they assume a lower rate of user error from the target population," she said snidely, "than is clearly the case when the device is operated by clumsy law enforcement officials."

"Clumsy?" he said, his eyes dark and narrow as he looked down and admired the flat, creamy plane of her exposed belly. He felt a twinge in his gut as he wondered what that creamy skin would feel like against his lips and under his tongue.

"You heard me," she said, trying to control the rapid rise and fall of her breath as she felt seared by his penetrating gaze.

Booth arched his brow and laughed. "So now you're questioning my fine motor skills?" he asked. "You know what, Bones, I'm getting pretty fed up with you insulting my skills. I'd be very happy to show you how good I am with my hands, if you would just shut up and let me get down to business here—"

"Promises, promises," Brennan hissed, bringing her hands up and pulling his wool coat off his shoulders. He removed his hands from her hips and shrugged out of the heavy overcoat, letting it fall quietly to the floor. She did not meet his smoldering eyes, but instead focused her attention on loosening his tightly-knotted necktie.

Booth groaned as she slid his tie out from beneath the collar of his shirt. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, trying to hold on to the last remaining thread of self-control, gently clenching and unclenching his fists as he let his arms fall to his side. She slowly unfastened his shirt, button-by-button, smirking as she watched the way his muscular chest rose and fell with each labored breath. Brennan mindlessly licked her lips as she opened his shirt, revealing the first hint of his hard pectoral muscles. She remembered the glimpse she'd had of his chest a few months before when they had traveled to eastern Washington to work that case involving the human remains found inside a dead bear, and he wore that French blue shirt to the local dive bar, with the top two buttons unbuttoned. She'd been tempted then to leer down his shirt and admire his chest then, but had shaken away the thought.

But as she blinked away the memory, she noted with a keen sense of disappointment that one thing stood between her fingertips and his broad, muscular chest: a well-worn, tank-style, ribbed white T-shirt. _Oh, fucking hell. Why does he always have to make things so difficult? Now, what is this again...I know Russ wears them...shit. What are they called? _she thought. Her brain struggled for the answer. _Spouse-smacker? No, that's not it. Wait...wife-something. What the hell was it? Oh, wait. I remember now. Yes_—_a wife-beater, that's it. _Brennan frowned at the term, then smirked as her eyes skimmed over his chest and down to his waist. She slipped the T-shirt from the waistband of his suit slacks, the latter of which were already gaping open due to her earlier efforts. _I want to touch him again_, Brennan thought to herself. _I __need_ _to touch him again. Now. Right now. I want him...all of him, __right now_.

Brennan squirmed as she stood in front of him as she recalled the smooth, hard feel of Booth's warm cock as she held it in her hand a few minutes before. Her pulse began to race as she knew she wanted to see and feel him—all of him—as quickly as humanly possible. She swallowed and tugged at his T-shirt, glancing up at Booth to see his gleaming brown eyes watching her with amused interest. She grumbled something incomprehensible under her breath as she tugged again at the bottom hem of his T-shirt, then raised her arms and yanked it upwards.

"Bones," he moaned as he raised his arms slowly—apparently, too slowly, since the next thing either of them heard was the soft sound of fabric ripping. "Hey!" he yelled.

"You were the one who insulted me, Booth," Brennan muttered. "That means, I'm the one in control here, so you're the one who actually needs to shut up, right now."

"Like hell you are, and like hell I will," Booth told her with a shake of his head.

"You know what, Booth, I'm getting pretty tired of these goddamn mixed signals from you," Brennan said. "Either you want to fuck or not. Because, if you do, I don't see what the big deal is about a little tear in the fabric of your very worn support garments, which are very sub par, by the way."

"Support garments?" he snorted. "You make it sound like a girdle."

"Yes, and a cheap one, apparently," Brennan said.

"Besides," he said. "What's the problem with wearing a comfy old T-shirt, especially on cold night like tonight?"

"I know that you have to budget your meager government income, Booth, but even discount stores have better quality items than this shirt."

"What?" he choked. "It's laundry day, Bones. You know? Laundry day is the day that all the old, comfy T-shirts come out to play. Not that you would know. You probably haven't washed your own clothes in—wait, I bet you haven't washed your own clothes since the Clinton administration. You probably even take your panties to the dry cleaners."

"For your information, while I do frequently patronize a very excellent dry cleaner in Georgetown, I do actually have an en-suite washer and dryer in my apartment that I frequently use," Brennan frowned. "While I may not have to sink to the plebeian depths of frequenting a laundromat like you do, I do do some of my own laundry, thank you very much." She stopped and then muttered, "The one time I did send out my lingerie, when it came back, two of my favorite bras had the underwire bent and three of my colored panties were bleached, so, yes, you're correct. I don't trust anyone else to do it the way I like it."

"Oh, gee, you having trust issues? Why is that such a shocker, huh, Bones?"

Brennan shook her head, and had opened her mouth to reply, when Booth cut her off with a shake of his head.

"You know what, Bones? You're too picky—just too goddamn picky." She opened her mouth again to reply, and Booth quickly placed a finger over it to shut her up. "And, another thing. I'm getting a bit sick and tired of you making the poor kid cracks at me. Not all of us can be as loaded as you are, Miss Nouveau-Riche, world-famous, 'I'm the best in my field' forensic anthropologist, _yada yada yada_. So knock it off with that stuff, huh? Keep your little potshots about me and my natty old T-shirts to yourself."

"If you want to wear a T-shirt, that's fine with me," Brennan replied when Booth had removed his finger from her lips. "I just need to know one way or another to be certain because if so, that preference infers that you plan to remain to stay clothed, which in turn intimates that you have no further interest in continuing our current efforts. Ergo, since it appears that you no longer have any interest in having sex, I believe that solves the issue of the mixed signals I'm getting from you. Consequently, I'm going to have to insist that we desist—"

"Look, if you would just shut the fuck up," he grunted, his impatience growing, "then you'd find yourself a lot closer to that fucking good time you mentioned earlier. Keep on talkin', Bones, and I can guaran-_damn_-tee you that's all we'll be doing tonight."

"See, there you go again," Brennan said in exasperation. "You say one thing that directly contradicts your prior statements. I'm beginning to think that you don't even know what you want anymore, Booth, and frankly I'm tired of getting jerked around—"

Reaching out, Booth roughly grabbed the open edges of her jumpsuit and yanked her towards him. With a hard jerk downward, his muscular hands suddenly parted the flimsy nylon of the field jump suit in a single movement. The _rip _echoed in the small, but seemingly cavernous confines of the Monument's stone observation room. Booth raised his eyes to hers and said, his voice rough as he spoke, "If you're going to rip something, Bones, you might as well do it right."

"And," he added. "I know exactly what I want." He cupped her shoulders with his hands in a gesture that, for a brief moment, seemed almost warm, then, in a motion that was so swift Brennan didn't realize he had even moved, slid his hands down her shoulders, over her arms and covered her breasts with his palms. A smile cracked the corner of his mouth as he gave her breasts a hard squeeze—not hard enough to hurt, but with enough force to elicit a sharp wince and then a slow, deep moan from Brennan's momentarily-silent lips. "Yeah," he said. "I know exactly what I want." He narrowed his eyes and held her stare. "But, are you willing to give it to me?" _Are you, Bones? Are you really? Because, if you are, I'm going to take it all_—_I'm going to take __everything__._

"I've never known you to be the type of man whose strong-suit was delayed gratification, Booth," Brennan barely could manage to utter through a strangled breath. _Take it. Take it all. Take everything_, she silently encouraged him. _Take me._

_Careful, Bones. Last chance_— "No," he shook his head slightly. "No, I'm not—not about this kind of thing. I want what I want when I want it, Bones."

"So, in your own way, you're just as bossy as I am," Brennan said quietly.

His hands moved quickly to the meager straps of her bra. The garment was relatively plain it its construction. Booth stared at its simple underwire design, noticing how the nude-colored mesh was probably more for comfort than support. Squinting at the very small threads that attached the bra straps to the cups, instinct guided his thumbs and forefingers as he reached for the critical juncture, pinched it between his thumbs and forefingers and gave another sharp tug. The bra easily gave way in his hand, causing her breasts to spill forth as she took a sharp breath.

_Game on, Bones. The game is fuckin' on_. He stared at her for a minute, looking at her naked breasts stand pert and at attention, as if they were waiting, just for him.

"Well, Bones," he said slowly, as he licked his lips. "'Bossy' to me is a person that talks a lot. 'All hat and no cattle,' as they say." He smirked and arched his eyebrow. "I'm a man of action," he added, finally raising his hand drawing his calloused right thumb over her nipple with a broad grin on his face.

"And, what is it that you plan to do right now, Booth?" Brennan said as she leveled her stare at him. "Aside from destroying my clothing? That is, I presume you've finished indulging in that past time to your satisfaction?" she asked, although her eyes never left where they'd locked onto watching him play with her tits.

"Nope," Booth said, as he ran a hand down her torso, over her navel, and then stopping only at her pubic bone. He let his hand linger at the waistband of her nude colored panties. He inched his index finger underneath the waistband, and looked up at her as he said, "I still haven't torn these yet, Bones. So, it's your call—you want me to rip these off your body, too, or what?"

"Such efforts are unnecessary, Booth," Brennan smiled at him. _Let's quit wasting time here and see what you can really do, huh, Booth? _"If you're sure you're still actually going to follow through on something aside from indulging the fetish involving tearing female clothing you apparently have of which I was previously unaware?"

"Whatever," he hissed, shrugging out of his button-down shirt with a grunt, sliding each arm out of its sleeve before crumpling it into a rough ball and throwing it to the side. He stood before her, clad in his stretched-out wife-beater T-shirt with its torn shoulder seam, with his pants unbuttoned and hanging loosely on his bony hips. He shook his head and smiled, then reached down, grabbed the bottom hem of his T-shirt, raised his arms and peeled it over his head. With a cocky grin, he tossed it to the floor and stood there before her, bare-chested, with his hands resting on his hips.

He stood there, watching her watch him for several long moments, before—taking in the sight of her creamy, round breasts and her pert, rosy-colored nipples staring at him—he realized he needed to take off his pants, and that before he could do that, he needed to take off his shoes. He hesitated for another second, then toed off his dress loafers, kicking them to the side before sliding his slacks and boxers off his hips in a single, smooth motion. He walked one step back to step out of them, then inhaled sharply as he felt the cold wall against his bare ass. Booth glanced at his feet as he wiggled his toes, then decided against removing his socks.

Brennan, watching Booth undress, had been mesmerized by the sight for a few seconds. However, she quickly snapped to when she realized her nerve endings were suddenly pulsing with her growing arousal and the remnants of her jumpsuit and bra were hindering rather than helping her situation. She quickly reached down and unlaced the gumboots of the suit and kicked them away, thankful that she was wearing warm white cotton socks when her feet hit the cold granite floor of the Monument's observation room. She balanced first one one foot and then then other as she kicked took off the boots and silently offered up a statement of thanks to the ethos when she didn't lose her balance and fall over in front of him. After a few seconds more, Brennan quickly shrugged out of the remnants of the jumpsuit and bra and turned to look at Booth clad only in her panties and white socks.

Brennan scanned Booth's naked form—noting with a lascivious smile how well-formed he indeed was—and her eyes fell once more on his muscular chest. She felt an irresistible compulsion to press her lips against the warm, smooth, taut skin that covered the fan-like pectoral fascia in the middle of his chest.

Booth took a step towards her and then said, "Bones—you would make this a lot easier if you weren't standing all the way over there."

For a minute, Brennan stared at him, swallowed once, and then said, "Or, maybe you should come over here, because I'm done meeting men half-way, Booth. This is on my terms...or not at all."

At this, Booth laughed. "I already told you once, Bones. I'm not like you're other boytoys. If you want me, come and get me, but there's no way in hell that I'm chasing after you again."

"I thought you said that you take what you want, Booth," Brennan taunted him. "This your way of saying you don't want me anymore?" She took a moment to point at his stiff cock, proudly jutting up ready to serve her in more ways then one. "Because," she snickered, and then purposely echoed his earlier words. "I suppose you're going to tell me for some illogical reason that makes absolutely no sense that _that's_ just because it's chilly, right?"

"Wouldn't you be the lucky one if it was like this just because of the cold," Booth smirked at her.

Shaking her head, Brennan looked nonplussed as she said, "No, not really."

With a sigh, the playfulness left Booth's face. "Why do you always have to make things so fucking hard, Bones?" he said, mindful at the moment the words left his mouth how impossibly hard she had managed to make him—despite, or perhaps in some small part because of, her incredibly aggravating mouth—as he quickly closed the gap between them and yanked her towards him. "Seriously? Why does everything have to be a battle with you?"

As he drew her toward him, he remembered she was still wearing her panties. Mindful of her earlier words, he was careful not to tear them, but none too gently pushed them off her hips and down her thighs.

"Off," he muttered into her ear. "Right now, unless you want me to go three-for-three, Bones."

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><p><em>Gee, I wonder what is going to happen.<em>

::**smirk**::

_Dinner at the Diner? Or something else?_  
><em>We're sure you've figured it out by now.<em>

_But you still want to see us weave that magic, huh?_

_One more chapter of this Scenario I is left to go._

_So..._

_You know what to do, people._  
><em>Click that little review button down there.<em>

Yep, right down there.

_That's the one._


	4. 4—Desecrating a National Monument, Pt IV

**A Very Bad Idea**

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><p><strong>By:<strong> Lesera128 and dharmamonkey  
><strong>Rated: <strong>M  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>Ummm, nope, we still don't own anything. We have, however, apparently become squatters in the sandbox that we crashed... so, umm... yeah. There we go

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><p><strong>AN: **Here we are again, doing our usual B&B + angst = eventual _yowzah. (And __you'll be happy to know that we've finally arrived at the point of ___yowzah___.)_

**UNF Alert**: _Okay, so here we go. If you've been awake for the prior 3 installments, you have a pretty good idea of what kind of thing follows. In fact, we're surprised you're even reading this silly A/N since the good stuff is below. (This is just tiresome, self-aggrandizing tripe, right?) Previous warnings still apply. If you haven't bothered with that NFPA-approved fire extinguisher, you probably never will. Ice water might help. In any case, brace yourselves because the unf is about to begin (or, rather, continue)._

_Now, where were we? Oh, yeah. We remember. Bet you do, too._

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><p><strong>I. Descecrating a National Monument, Part IV<strong>

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><p>Booth stared at her, his mouth gaping open in utter silence as the wild look in her eyes only seemed to excite him more—<em>if that was even possible<em>, the very sane but very small voice of rationality called out from the corner in Booth's mind to which it it had retreated.

For her part, Brennan hesitated for a fraction of a second then hastily compiled as she shimmied out of the panties, let them pool at her feet, and then kicked them away. She then triumphantly moaned when she pressed her naked chest up against Booth's as she took her hands and wracked the back of his shoulders with her nails. Booth didn't feel a thing when Brennan left a long parallel trail of light scratches down from his trapezius to his deltoids.

"Who do you think...you are?" Brennan muttered, running her lips down his neck and across his shoulders. "You're absolutely no one special," she breathed, more to herself than to Booth.

"Like fuck I'm not," Booth grunted as he rolled his head down from where he'd been marking her neck with what would be a very prominent hickey the next day. "I'm the best you've ever had, the best you're ever gonna have, and I'm going to prove it to you."

"Really?" Brennan taunted at his, her voice rough with desire. "And, how's that again?"

"Because," Booth told her, shifting a bit as he nudged her legs apart with his knee. "When I'm done with you, you're not even going to remember your own name, Bones."

"I doubt that...very much," she groaned. "Ohhhh...fuck."

"That's what I'm trying to do here, Bones," he retorted as he grabbed her left leg and pulled it up off the ground. "Wrap it around my waist."

"Don't tell me what to do," Brennan breathed.

In retaliation, Booth took his thumb and flicked her clitoris, causing her head to roll back and hit the wall with a hard _thunk _that she barely felt.

"Oh, fuck—" she muttered.

"Oh, I intend to, Bones," Booth told her, his own voice so rough that he almost barely recognized it. "I'm going to fuck the memory of every loser that's ever touched you right out of that goddamn genius egghead brain of yours so that you won't ever be able to remember having been fucked by anyone but me. Because I'm not him. I'm _not _Stires; I'm nothing like that two-faced jerkwad. He never deserved you, never wanted you, never would do for you what I have and will. Do you understand that? Because, when I'm done with you, not only will you know that as surely as you know which way is up and which way is down, but you'll never doubt it again."

"Yes—" she moaned, whether to his offer or to the fact that Booth squeezed her ass neither was sure.

"Me," he said, as moved his fingers from her clit down her slit and slowly parted her fold. The wetness of her body dribbled over his fingers making him come as close as he had to being uncharacteristically guilty of being 'too sensitive' as Brennan had insulted him earlier. _I'll be damned if that's happening. No fucking way, _Booth thought as he clamped his jaw tightly for a moment, took two deep breaths, and stilled himself. Fortunately, Brennan was too distracted to notice his brief pause. When he felt in control of himself enough to continue, he said to her, in a voice so rough that he almost didn't recognize it as he spoke, "Only me. When we're done here, you'll never remember a single minute when you wanted that prick Stires to look at you, let alone touch you like this—"

"No," Brennan breathed. "That was a stupendous error on my part. It won't happen again. _Ooooohh, _Booth...fuck. Keep doing that. Harder...more. I need _more._"

"I hate the fact that he's fucked you," Booth seemed to mutter more to himself than to Brennan, although the passion in his voice caught her slightly off-guard. He moved two of his fingers along her folds, tracing the curve of her body, and rested them at her warm entrance. Brennan whimpered at his touch. "I hate it. I fucking hate it."

"It wasn't one of my better decisions," she agreed in a slightly pitiful tone of voice.

"No, it wasn't," Booth told her. "He just used you—"

"He's a user—" Brennan agreed, desperation increasing in her voice. "Booth—"

"A complete and total dumbass," Booth told her. "He touched you. I can't stand that thought—and that wasn't one of your better ideas, by the way. He never gets to touch you again." His nostrils flared briefly at the thought of Stires, but the feel of her moisture on his fingers caused desire for her to wash away his hatred of her former lover.

"Never," Brennan moaned. She stopped and then leveled her eyes at him. "Make me forget him, Booth," she challenged him. "Oh, God, Booth—please. Do it. Give me a reason never to look at him without thinking of how you're touching me right now."

"Done," Booth grunted as he lowered his head to kiss her again and used his tongue to mirror the similar efforts he made with his fingers as he penetrated her.

Brennan's legs almost gave out against him as he moved his fingers in and out of her in a steady movement. Their tongues dueled for several seconds before they separated for air. She felt the removal of his fingers with a keen sense of disappointment.

"Ooooh, damn, Booth—" she cried out as his hands roughly pulled her hips tight against his pelvis, and he thrust up against her although he wasn't anywhere near where he needed to be for that particular logistical feat. Still, Brennan felt a sweet pleasure building, almost as if a wave with her name on it was cresting. "Make me forget," she repeated, licking her bottom lip as she wanted to incite Booth to do whatever it was that he had done before a second time. "Obliterate him from my memory, if you think you're good enough to pull it off."

"God, you're so fucking mouthy, Bones," Booth growled at her. "Sometimes it's a good idea to shut the fuck up, you know?"

"I...thought," Brennan struggled to find the words as he increased his grip on her hips. "I-I thought you were going to fuck the memory of Michael Stires out of my mind, Booth. So what exactly are you waiting for?"

At the mere mention of Stires' name once again falling from Brennan's lips, Booth's anger spiked. He moved his hands from where they had gripped her hips so tightly, and he wrapped his arms around her torso. Pulling her to him, he growled, "Don't you dare mention that worthless asshole's name to me while we're fucking, Bones. As a matter of fact, never say it to me ever again. I told you, I hate him. And, I hate that you let him use you like you did. So, don't ever say it to me again, got it? _Never." _His breath came in heavy pants as he added, "Do you understand?" and bit each word as it passed from his lips, then he stopped what he was doing.

For several long moments—a minute, it seemed to Brennan—he didn't move, but just stared at her. Only willing to submit to Booth's grandiose and imperious commandments to a point, she felt her annoyance flare at his prolonged pause.

At last, she grudgingly said, "I understand what you're saying."

"Do you?" he said, his hands coming up to her breasts. With a quick swipe of his thumb at each of her pert nipples, Booth grinned when he saw her sway a bit at his actions. "Do you really, Bones? Because this is a _very _important point."

Not to be shown up by Booth, she took a step towards him and wrapped her arms around his torso. "I get it," she murmured into his ear. Realizing how perfect a position she was in, Brennan let her hands run down his vertebral column and over the curve of his ass. Her fingers grazed his cleft, and she felt Booth shudder against her. Smiling into his shoulder, she let both hands come up and give his ass cheeks a firm squeeze as she'd imagined doing only a short time before. "I knew it. I knew I was right. You _do _have a great ass."

Booth's murmured response came out unintelligibly as he moaned, "_Uuuuggggnnnnlllll._"

Brennan's smile deepened as she felt a flush of renewed wetness between her legs at his moan. Pulling back slightly, she looked at him. "This just isn't working for me," she said, reaching up and digging her nails into Booth's shoulder. "Now," she demanded. "I want you inside me right now."

Booth felt a flash of desire pulse through him at her words. His eyes narrowed at her as he grunted at her command once he recovered the ability to form coherent sentences. "God, I knew it. I was right. You're such a damn liar, Bones. You _are _bossy in bed." _And it's so fucking hot, I can't stand it. Fuck._

"Yeah, like there was any chance I wasn't lying about that one," Brennan muttered. She ground her hips against him to try to find some relief, and found the tiny bit of friction she was able to achieve only made her arousal even more miserable in its growing dissatisfaction. "And, for the record, we're not in bed—"

"Oh, now, you're going to use semantics on me?" Booth groaned at her. Shaking his head, he said, "No, I don't think so."

Bending his head down, he gripped her jaw with his right hand and leaned in, brushing his lips against her left earlobe. He paused, allowing his hot breath to stream out of his nostrils and tickle the sensitive skin in front of her ear as he wondered if she would struggle against him in that moment. Something stilled in her, for a brief minute, and in that fraction of a second, Booth moved, taking the tip of her earlobe between his teeth and pulling lightly before releasing the tender flesh. He noted a vague shiver as she recoiled slightly from the sensation, then, without skipping a beat, he drew the tip of his tongue across the flat open curve of her ear and in a sliding motion up her helix.

Brennan twisted away from his ministrations and turned her head to the side, eliciting a barely-heard growl of frustration from Booth. But before he could decide whether to lean in and try again, she dipped her chin, brushing it against the upper edge of his collarbone before opening her mouth and sinking her teeth into the round, well-developed deltoid muscle that fanned over his shoulder. Brennan grunted and closed her jaws around the meat of his shoulder as he cried out—possibly more in surprise than in actual pain, though as he pulled away from her, a satisfied grin danced across her lips as she noted the right red marks her incisors had left on his olive skin.

"Damn it, Bones!" he hissed, pulling away from her and rubbing his shoulder with a melodramatic frown. "What are you trying to do, draw blood?"

"God, you are _such _an infantile complainer," Brennan sighed, ignoring his question.

"'Baby', Bones—"

"I'm no one's baby," Brennan told him sharply.

With a sigh, Booth said, "You called me an 'infantile complainer.' The better word is 'baby.'"

"So, you're admitting you're a baby?" Brennan inquired.

"No—"

"Because I fail to see how it's just fine for you when you're leaving hickeys all over my neck, but one little nip, and you go to pieces. It figures you'd have a double standard."

Narrowing his eyes, Booth took one stalking step towards her again, "Mmmm, I haven't even come close to going to pieces yet, but you will, you little vampire—"

"There's no such thing as a—"

Booth narrowed his eyes and, wrapping his fingers tightly around her slender upper arms, growled again, the dark sound coming from the back of his throat. "You bit me, you little tease," he muttered as he bent his head down and placed his mouth over the silky skin of her clavicle, marking her with his lips.

"Well," she said, a ragged edge to an otherwise playful voice. "If you'd like, I can find another part of you to work over with my mouth," she mused, a wry smile twisting the corner of her mouth.

"Huh," Booth grunted at her with a small shake of his head. "As if, after that little move, Little Miss Lestat, I'm letting your teeth anywhere near my dick—no how, no way. I'm crazy, but not _that _crazy..."

Brennan's eyes narrowed at him, her body becoming stiff and tense and not at all in a good way. at his words She quickly jerked her arm away from him and watched as her fast movement obviously caught him by surprise. She then shoved him away, putting a couple of feet between them.

"That's it," she hissed. "I'm done."

"No, no we're not, Bones," Booth said, the dark edge still present in his voice. "Not by a long shot."

"I don't have to take this from anyone, lest of all you," she spat at him. "So, like I said, that's it. I'm done."

She to retrieve her discarded bra and jumpsuit that lay in a heap on the cold stone floor. "What was I thinking?" Brennan muttered to herself. "All men are assholes. I don't know why I expected you to be any different. God, I'm just fucking things up again and being stupid all because you've got a great body. No. I'm not doing that again—"

Booth watched her movements with amusement under heavy-lidded eyes. Grinning, when she made the comment about his body, he knew he had a a short window of opportunity when she grabbed her clothing and stood up straight as she began to redress. Moving with his own brand of speed, Booth tackled her so that the fell with a loud _ommmpph _on top of where his black overcoat had ended up splayed all over the floor.

When she realized that she'd gone down again, and that it was Booth's warm, naked body pressing down on hers, she immediately felt her rage spike again and she struggled to push him off of her. "Get off of me, right now, Booth," she almost yelled at him. "I mean it. Whatever momentary lapse of reason impaired my judgment and made me think this was a good idea, it's passed, and I'm done, so get off of me." She punctuated her final words with a particularly vicious shove.

Booth, for his part, reached out and grabbed her hands pushing them up over her head. "Cut that out," he muttered. "You're not going anywhere."

"Yes, I am," she told him. "Now, get up off of me, Booth, before I do something that we'll both regret."

"Oh, I think we're a bit far past that part, don't you? Besides, I thought I told you already, Bones. You don't get to run away from me ever." He stopped, watched her eyes radiating waves of lust and barely contained rage as she watched him. His tongue darted out as he licked the corner of his mouth and then shook his head with a grin. "You're the one who started this, Bones. I'm just making sure we finish what we started."

She stared at him for several seconds before she finally spoke, but when she did, her tone had changed again, some of the dark edginess that had been in Booth's voice finally edging into her own.

"Who says I want to finish it?" Brennan finally replied.

When he noticed that she'd stopped squirming, Booth chanced letting one of her hands go. Releasing her hand had freed his own, and he slowly trailed his open palm in a line of appreciation down her side and all the way to her hip. Brennan shivered slightly at his touch, and when he moved over her hip bone, he switched from his palm to the tips of his fingers. Lightly, as his goal was to tease her just as much as it was to stoke her arousal, moved his finger tips over her pubic bone. Brennan was rigid, perfectly still as she felt his hand go from her pubic bone to graze the soft hair at the apex of her mons before he dipped lower and carefully separated her slit with his thumb. Unable to held herself, her back arched at his movement, and Booth grinned at her swift intake of breath. His grin grew even wider when he withdrew his hand and lifted it up so she could see it glistening in the light with her body's fluids coating it thickly.

"So, you like evidence, right, Bones?" Booth murmured, staring at his finger in bemused wonder.

"Evidence of what, Booth?" Brenna breathed.

"Evidence, Dr. Brennan, that you can hide yourself behind your squintiness all you want, but deep down, even if it's a large part of you, it's only a part of you. An important part, mind you, but not the whole you. There's the squint-you and the you-you, and I'd say both of them are here and are giving me all the evidence I need, Bones," Booth chuckled.

Brennan stared at him for a minute, watching in wonder as she tried to figure out how someone like Booth could understand such a simple thing about her when Michael never had.

Nodding at her to reclaim her attention, Booth smiled and said, "Yeah, like I said, I think this is pretty good evidence that you not only want to finish this thing, but you're more than ready to do so, huh?" He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, smiled, then brought both to his lips.

Brennan watched him with an intense look. "You wouldn't," she breathed.

"Wanna try me again, Bones?" Booth grinned. "Because, we both know how the last time went when you tested me." She said nothing, but merely watched as he slowly opened his mouth and then his tongue darted out as he languidly licked his fingers. "Mmmmmm...very nice," he added with a waggle of his eyebrows.

His cocky self-assurance was more than Brennan could bear. Taking her free hand, she reached up and threaded her fingers through his very short hair. Pulling his head down to hers, _she_eagerly sought out his mouth, and in that moment, both of them knew they were done talking.

Booth pressed his mouth against hers so hard he wondered if it was possible to bruise one's lips. Then a moment passed, and he realized he could no longer think. All he wanted was to be inside of her, as quickly and as deeply as possible. Her mouth grasped hungrily at his, and he felt her tongue slide across his lips and tangle with his own. Booth groaned deeply and ground his hips into hers, the sensation of feeling the warm, soft skin of her inner thigh brush against his cock sending a searing, almost painful jolt of desire surging down his spine in both directions. Feeling the pulse of want in his groin as her tongue stroked against his, he coasted his palms over the swell of her hips then reached around to grab the round globes of her ass.

"_Ooooooooohhhhh," _she moaned as she broke their kiss, rolling her hips yet keeping her legs held tightly against his pelvis, unwilling to grant him admission that he—and she, though she was loathe to admit it—craved so desperately.

Brennan reached her hand between them and closed her fingers once more around his arousal. Booth grunted but said nothing, bending his head to the crook where her neck met the curve of her shoulder. He dragged his lower lip against the silky, ivory skin there, leaving a barely damp trail in his wake before opening his mouth slightly, bringing the slenderest part of her shoulder between his teeth and biting down.

"Hey!" Brennan cried out, though she did not flinch or pull away. They locked eyes for a second. He raised his eyebrows at her exclamation, but when she merely hardened the firm line of her mouth and didn't say anything else, he too remained quiet.

Brennan stared at him with a hard look for several seconds before she reached down between them and grabbed the tip of his cock. She fisted it, causing Booth's eyes to shut as his pounding heart started to beat even faster. Again, he was afraid he was about to loose it, and again, he moved to brush her hand away. This time, however, Brennan was prepared for him. Dodging his feeble shove, she gripped him even tighter and stroked him even harder in her hand.

"You want me?" she hissed, flicking her thumb across his scrotum. "_You _know you want me," she said in a husky voice. "And, _I _know you want me. You've wanted me since the day you first saw me." She thumbed his balls once more. "Are you ready to do something else besides talk, Booth?" Her hand closed again more tightly around him as she pumped him, dragging the soft, silky skin over his rigid shaft until his brown eyes rolled back in their sockets.

"Fuck, yes," he groaned, shifting his weight to sit on his haunches as he nudged her thighs apart with his forearms. He exhaled sharply as she released his cock from her grasp.

This time, she did not resist him as her legs fell away, making way for him, and she felt the warmth of his body hover her once more as he leaned forward, supporting his weight on his left hand as he held himself in his right hand. She heard his breath catch in his throat as he swiped his cock once, then twice, then a third time over her slippery entrance before rearing his hips back and thrusting into her with a loud grunt that seemed to echo off the stone walls of the observation room.

"God, you're so tight," he said hoarsely, punctuating his words with another loud grunt. "Warm and wet and ready—oh, you're so ready."

"I know," she observed wryly. "Are you?"

"I already told you, Bones," Booth said as he withdrew slowly, looking down to see himself glistening with her wetness before driving into her again as hard as he could. "Fuck, yeah." With each further stroke, he felt vaguely the coat slide a little over the cold stone floor, but he did not slow his pace or soften the power of his strokes. For the first minute or so, Brennan moaned with each stroke, but then, her moans turned to grunts as she squirmed against the silk lining of the overcoat that had become their impromptu and makeshift bed.

"Booth," she whispered between his grunting thrusts. "Ahhhhh—" The sensation was very pleasurable, so much more so than her recent coupling with Michael. _God, three strokes into me, and I'm ready to come. Damn, I knew he'd be good, but, just_—_damn. _"More," she demanded. "Fuck me harder, Booth...fuck—" Suddenly, Brennan knew she wasn't going to get what she needed, as wonderful as it was so far, unless—_God, this could be so much better if only_—

"_Ooooohhh..." _she moaned again, unable to utter more than a syllable or two between Booth's hard, fast thrusts. She clenched her eyes shut and shook her head, trying to summon up the mental focus to say what she needed to say despite the maddeningly pleasurable sensation that coursed up her spine each time Booth stroked into her. "Booth—" she called. He ignored the first call as he merely pounded into her harder. Brennan hissed, and reaching up to grasp his bicep and giving him a little shake to get his attention, "Booth! Wait just a damn second—"

"What?" he grunted, slowing his movement and looking down at her. He could not help but admire the way her cheeks and forehead had flushed, and how her pupils had dilated, leaving her pale gray-green eyes a much darker color than he was used to looking at. Then he realized he had heard her say his name a few moments before, but that it wasn't just the normal call of his name as they built towards a mutual climax. "What is it, Bones?" he choked.

"Look," she said softly between panting breaths, struggling to string a few related words into a coherent sentence. "I-I need...I need you to lift my hips up a little bit and let me wrap my legs—" She took another moment to still her breathing. "Let...let me wrap my legs...around your waist, and you'll—"

"No," Booth growled instantly_,_feeling incredibly frustrated at having his momentum interrupted, and not even bothering to listen to her explanation.

Not one to be cowed by Booth's petulant behavior, Brennan reached down between them, cupped his testes, and gave it a gentle but firm squeeze to get his attention. "Yes," she muttered.

Shaking his head, Booth his eyes shut and shook his head in exasperation. _God, if she would just shut up for two fucking minutes instead of trying to choreograph this like some goddamn off-Broadway production. _

"Bones—" He opened his mouth to speak, but after a second of thought, he realized her proposal made sense, and he'd be able to fuck her with better—well, leverage, for lack of a better word.

"Come 'ere," he muttered, as he pulled out of her and shifted his hips. "Up," he told her. "Lift up now," he said as he palmed her ass, pulling her toward him as he felt his cock twitch in anticipation of entering her again.

"Okay," she agreed, pleased that he had complied as he helped her elevate her legs so that each one was once wrapped around his waist. As she settled into the new position, she felt a bit lightheaded, but it quickly passed when she used her arms to steady her torso. She felt the cool silk of his jacket rub up against the backs of her arms and shoulders as Booth started to move again, although she could also feel the seams between each floor tile of rough granite scraping her back. There would be more than one imperfection left on her skin later, but at that moment, Brennan didn't care.

She gasped when she felt Booth reel back and enter her again roughly. Even more so than before, with her pelvis rotated and her hips elevated this way, he penetrated her deeply—so deeply that it somehow surprised her a little—and she could feel him in a way that it seemed every single nerve ending in her body was firing at the same time. His wasn't the longest that she'd ever felt inside of her, but he certainly was among the thickest as he stretched her with each movement. Each time he pounded into her, Brennan felt her ability to think begin to unravel. Her thought processes continued to fray rapidly as she felt him stroke in and out of her, filling her up completely and stretching her until she could hardly think at all. _Was he right? _she thought. _Do I even know my own name...or just his?_

Booth threw his head back at the sensation of being back inside of her. Sure, he'd fantasized a hundred times about what it would feel like to be inside of her this way, _Hell, I spent the entire weekend in Costa Rica jerking off to her, didn't I? _Booth's scattered mind thought randomly. _But, this is __so_ _much better_—_so much better. _For a minute, he tried to savor the experience, pulling out slowly before stroking back into her, firmly and deeply. The way she felt—so hot and slippery and silky and matching him with every movement in a joint rhythm he'd rarely experienced with other partners—as he moved inside of her was more than he could bear, and after a few more deliberate strokes, the last strands of his self-control frayed and snapped.

With a deep, open-mouthed growl that sounded nearly like a roar, he reared his hips back and began to plow into her with every ounce of physical force he could muster—which, after an hour of verbal skirmishing and the maddening way she'd teased him, turned out to be quite a lot as he had a healthy supply of anger- and lust-soaked energy banked away for just this purpose. He continued to slam into her, each time pulling out swiftly, then slamming into her again, holding her hips with his big hands to maintain the leverage he needed to maximize the friction that melted his mind further with each pounding stroke.

After a dozen, two dozen, maybe three dozen strokes—who could tell?—the rise and fall of Brennan's ever-louder moans signaled her approaching release. Booth looked down at her with a grin of self-satisfaction and curiosity as he watched her facial expression and the movement of her eyes beneath her closed lids and he knew she was close—but as he felt the sensation of free-fall begin to swirl in his own belly and a twitch as his balls tightened, and he knew he was even closer. _But, that's not gonna happen_, he told himself. _I'll be damned if that happens the first time. She'll never let me live it down. _

After a particularly hard thrust, Booth withdrew, and before driving in again, he reached one hand down between them and, gathering a few droplets of her moisture with his thumb, began to roll his thumb over her clit.

"What...w-what are you doing?" she croaked, her eyes opening to look at him, the surprise clear in her eyes.

Making good on his earlier claim that he preferred actions to words, Booth traced several small circles around her clitoris. "I don't know what you like," he finally mumbled.

Brennan, for her part, felt a desperate pulse continue to build inside her. _I've got to hold on just a little bit more. Ooooh, just a little longer_—

"The top," she muttered. "Not the sides. The top is the most sensitive for me—"

Taking her direction, he adjusted his movements and began to increase the pressure of his index finger on her clit, skimming the top in a back-and-forth rubbing motion that made Brennan want to pass out from the sheer pleasure of it.

Although the idea of watching her come in his hand had a certain appeal, when he deemed that she was as close as she was going to be without actually falling off the edge, he withdrew his hand, and quickly moved to enter her again before Brennan could make a mewl of protest at the lack of his fingers' skill manipulation of her.

"Booth," she cried out as his touch sent a shockwave of pleasure through her just before he rammed his thick, hard cock into her once more. "Oh God, _Booooooth_—"

He grinned a very sly smile at hearing his atheist partner utter the name of God as he pounded into her with his cock and pleasured her with his fingers. Booth felt her arch her back, and he almost lost it himself when he felt her walls begin to contract, pulling him more deeply inside her. Her head snapped back once, lolling to the side like a rag doll as he felt her shudder hard beneath him, the muscles inside of her clenching around him as as a loud groan escaped from her lips.

"You liked that, didn't you?" he choked out as his own impending orgasm suddenly caught up with him at the moment hers ended as her muscles fluttered around his cock. "You felt that? You felt me, Bones? Because that's me, all me—"

"Y-yess," she managed weakly, finally rolling her head to look at him. "I felt everything. And...it was wonderful."

The vulnerable smile she gave him just about undid him in that minute.

"Oh, God, Bones. Fuck. I-I—I'm gonna come," he told her. "I—I wanna—_ohhh _God, Bones—can I come inside of you?"

She gave him a knowing look at she tightened the grip her legs had on his waist, and she pulled him more tightly into her. "Yes," she nodded. "Now. Right now. You're inside me, so what are you waiting for? Come, Booth—"

As soon as the words left Brennan's mouth, Booth lost it, throwing his head back with a grimace. "Oh, my God," he muttered as he tried to ram even more deeply into her warmth again, trying to bury himself as deeply inside of her as possible, even though he was already seated to the hilt. He felt her tighten her internal muscles around him again, flexing several times as her walls contracted around his cock. His eyes snapped up to meet Brennan's.

"W-What are you...what are you doing?" he rasped.

Brennan's response was punctuated with another tightening of her muscles around him. "Come. Now."

Her bossy words both inflamed and infuriated him, and he moved to pull back once, but she held him tightly in place. Booth squeezed his eyes shut, and, then, as his tip reached her deepest depth and he held her tightly against him, he exploded inside of her.

"_Booonnnes_..."

After a few moments—how many, he did not know—he looked down at her with a sheepish, lopsided grin on his face. Her chest was heaving, just as his was, and a crooked smile propagated across her thin pink lips with beads of sweat glistening on her brow despite the chill of the room. He realized he still held her hips firmly, and, with a quiet laugh, he gently released his grip as he slipped out of her and moved back, collapsing onto his haunches with his hands on his hips as he struggled to catch his breath.

Their eyes met and locked in a long stare. Booth wondered if he should say something clever, or meaningful, or profound, but nothing came to mind.

Brennan, for her part, finally shifted, and suddenly realized how sore she would be the next day. _Oh, well. It's not like it wasn't worth it, _Brennan thought to herself. _It was totally worth it._

Her movements had caught Booth's attention, and he suddenly realized how strange the pair of them most look, naked, spread on top of his wool overcoat, having just had sex in the observation room of the Washington Monument.

"What?" she said as she saw him chuckle quietly. For her part, Brennan squirmed a little as the combined fluids of their passion coated the inside of her thighs.

Cocking an eyebrow at her, Booth said, "Oh, it's nothing, Bones. I just never thought I'd ever see you doing something so feminine like being spread out flat on your back, Bones. It's kinda...sexy."

She cocked her head and rolled her eyes. "Well, I never thought I'd actually see you in a sexual position where you'd be on your knees, Booth, considering your heterosexuality, so I can't necessarily reciprocate your sentiments."

Shaking his head, Booth narrowed his eyes as he said, "You know, after a fuck like that, I'd have thought your mouthiness might take at least a a five-minute break, Bones."

"It did," she grinned. "But, you missed it after your brain was metaphorically scrambled when you ejaculated a few minutes ago."

"Always the mouth with you, huh?"

She nodded evilly.

They stared at each other for another minute as the sensations of the regular world filtered into their brains. Eventually, they moved in silence for several minutes, from the second Booth wobbled for a second as blood began to move to his extremities and reduce the numbness he felt in his feet to when he extended a hand to Brennan and helped pull her up. She smiled as she let him aid her in standing, uncertain how she would be able to move otherwise. Brennan then looked about and bent down as she began to retrieve their scattered clothes. The only sound that echoed in the observation room was their breathing and shuffled footfalls as they moved around the room dressing.

A few more minutes passed before Booth sat on top of his black wool overcoat, boxers and pants now back in place, even though he hadn't yet refastened the fly on his trousers. He had pulled on his white damask button-down shirt, and it hung open loose on his chest where Brennan could still catch a glimpse of his well-developed and very pronounced musculature in the soft glow of the incandescent bulbs that served as the room's dated source of lighting. Booth sat with one leg extended straight out in front of his while his other was bent at the knee. Using his palms to steady his position as he reclined, he watched Brennan curiously as she stared at the bundle of dark nylon material that had been her Jeffersonian field jumpsuit with a look of defeated capitulation write all over her face.

Slowly, Brennan shook her head as she thumbed the torn zipper and said quietly, "There's no way this is gonna work."

Booth narrowed his eyes and said, "Why?"

Looking over at him, she displayed the ripped zipper with resigned air to her movements. "It's just too much—the damage...without a needle and thread, there's no way for me to hide this, even in just the short amount of time I need to get downstairs, past the NPS rangers, and into the SUV."

"What if," Booth began tentatively, "What if you pull it as tight as you can, and you just wear my jacket over it? If anyone asks on the way down, and given how late it is, I doubt they will, we can just say that you got cold up on the scaffolding."

Sighing, Brennan asked, "Do you really think that'll work?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Booth said, "What other choice do we really have?"

"None," Brennan said, after a minute. "None at all."

Booth stood up, wobbled a little as he found his sea legs, then reached down and retrieved his wool coat from the stone tile floor. He shook out the coat and scowled slightly as he looked at it under the observation room's dim lights.

"Aw, fuck, Bones," he said with a wry laugh.

"What?" she asked.

"I'm gonna have to take this coat to the cleaners," he replied, looking at the coat with a keen eye. "Oh man, maybe I should just let you send it to yours. I don't want to get embarrassed using the place I normally do. There's this little old Asian lady in there that must be about two hundred years old—"

"Surely that's an exaggeration, since there's no way she could actually be that old and still be alive. The oldest known human—"

Brennan immediately bit her lip, stopping mid-sentence when Booth shot her a look. She was rewarded with a smile when he continued.

"And, anyway, she always looks at me like my grandma did. There's no friggin' way I'm taking this into her and when she asks 'And what do you have for me today, Mr. Booth?' that I'm going to tell her that I need them to dry clean my overcoat because, well—"

"Why?"

Booth raised his eye as he nodded at the jacket. "Well, uh—Bones, ummm...can't you see that?" He pointed at the jacket.

Brennan looked and then shrugged. "No, what?"

"It's right there, Bones," Booth pointed to a couple of white spots that stained the silk lining.

Brennan frowned at him. "Oh, that."

"Yeah, that," Booth flushed, more than slightly embarrassed.

"Well, there's no way that was from me," Brennan said. "My vaginal secretions aren't that color, so it must be you—"

"Bones," Booth hissed. "Do you have to say it like that?"

"Say it like what?' Brennan said.

"Ya know...the whole vaginal thing," Booth motioned with his head.

"Would you prefer lubrication? Because, technically that's not necessarily an accurate descriptor, since some of the discharge from my cervix during intercourse wasn't lubrication, but the result of when I came," Brennan said. "Perhaps the ubiquitous but still applicable descriptor of bodily fluids would be more appropriate?"

"Whatever, Bones," Booth said. "Geez, why do you have to say it like that?"

Walking up to him, Brennan's still naked body pressed up against his partially clothed one, and he shivered. "Given the ninety minutes of verbal foreplay we engaged in before the forty minutes of verbal/physical foreplay, combined with the actual intercourse we've just had, I find your sudden reticence to simply say you don't want to take your coat to be dry cleaned by your normal service because you're embarrassed to have to inform them that there are a couple of semen stains present to be quite adorable, Booth," Brennan told him with a smile. "You can be very charming when you aren't being a dick." She gave him a soft smile before she rewarded him with a gentle kiss.

He smiled back with a crooked grin. "And, I think if you keep that up, there are going to be more than a couple of drops of stuff on my coat for me to worry about, Bones," Booth said when she pulled away.

"Oh?"

"Because," he told her. "I'm seriously thinking about throwing you back down on that coat and having another go." He arched an eyebrow at her as he said, "Of course, if that happens, I'm going to send you the bill for the dry cleaning no matter which service I use."

"And, why's that?" she said, trying to keep a straight face, although she knew she was failing miserably as a smile cracked the edges of her mouth.

"Because," he groaned. "The same reason why it's pointless to sew your damn jumpsuit so that it's repaired back into its prim and proper state of squinty sacredness."

"And, that is, Booth?" Brennan teased him lightly. "It's a moot point anyway unless you've been holding out on my about your possession of the requisite sewing materials and heretofore tailoring skills of which I might've been unaware you possessed?"

He pulled her tightly against him as he said, "I thought we already established there was a lot of things you didn't know about which skills I possessed and which ones I didn't tonight, Bones—"

"Touche, Booth," Brennan said. "But, that still doesn't explain the moot point you referenced."

"Oh, that," Booth said with a toothy grin. "Well, _ummm_, it's a moot point about fixing your suit, because whether it happens here or later, if I see you wearing it after we leave the scene, I'm pretty damn certain I plan on ripping it straight off your hot and very sexy fucking body, pronto."

A moment of silence passed between them as Brennan considered his statement.

"So, is this your way of admitting that hell might've frozen over, if such a place exists, Booth?" she laughed.

Shivering a bit as he once again noticed the temperature, Booth nodded. "It certainly is cold enough, huh?" He paused and then tilted his head as he asked, "So, you have any objections to that plan?"

"As long as said place where you're ripping the suit off of me again is somewhere warm, and has a soft horizontal space that is in close proximity to where I'll be standing when you tear said jumpsuit off of me, then the answer is no, Booth—I don't have any objections to that plan," Brennan told him with a smile.

"That's excellent," Booth said. "Because I happen to know just the place to go...as long as you don't mind going up a couple more flights of stairs—"

Brennan groaned at this, and he said, "What?"

"How many?"

"Just a few... just enough to get us upstairs over this liquor store I know," Booth told her.

Leaning into him again, she wrapped her arms around his neck as she moved to kiss him once more before she smiled and said, "Deal."

* * *

><p><em>This marks the end of AVBI, Scenario I<em>  
><em>("Desecrating a National Monument")<em>

_But we are far from finished with this series._  
><em>We've got lots of ideas left to play with in this<em>  
><em>strange little space we've created called AVBI.<em>

_Each "story" will be a scenario, which may_  
><em>be one or more chapters, depending on how<em>  
><em>wild a goose chase our muses take us on.<em>

_Anybody up for some Booth-in-fatigues fun?_  
><em>Or maybe some holiday-themed Christmas fun?<em>  
><em>Maybe some fun in public places?<em>  
><em>(I guess we've already inaugurated <span>that<span> theme, huh?)_

_Point is, the sky is the limit..._  
><em>(I guess that's an idea, too, right?<em>  
><em>Okay, I'll stop now...)<em>

_So, please show us the love we obsessively crave_  
><em>( ::snicker:: ) by leaving us a review.<em>

_You know what to do, people._  
><em>Click that little review button down there.<em>

_Yep, right down there._  
><em>That's the one.<em>


	5. 5—Cooking Off Ammo, Pt I

**A Very Bad Idea  
><strong>**By****: **Lesera128 & dharmamonkey**  
><strong>**Rated****: **M**  
><strong>**Disclaimer****: **_Ummm_, nope, we still don't own anything. We have, however, apparently become squatters in the sandbox that we crashed...so, _umm_...yeah. There we go.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: The next few chapters, comprising Scenario #2 of "A Very Bad Idea," is the result of a somewhat creative blending of motifs and does have a bit more plot and (_gasp!_) character development than either one of us had intended when we started out to write—which also means it ended up far longer than originally anticipated. It actually started with a kernel of an idea for a totally shallow, content-free, one-shot tribute to a couple of **dharmamonkey's **Booth fetishes, but rapidly evolved into a five-part piece with far more emotional complexity than either of us expected. So, yeah, like _that _happening really surprised anyone. Anyway...

As was the case for Scenario #1, consider yourself warned that Scenario #2 contains some really aggressive/angry interactions between Booth and Brennan. However, _everything _that was done was done for a reason and so, as Booth told Brennan once, "just try to keep an open mind." If you can stick through and read it, you'll be really glad you did. If not, then turn back now. In either case, no hard feelings.

* * *

><p><strong>II. Cooking Off Ammo, Part I<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Pertinent Details on Scenario #2<strong>**: **Set in-between seasons 5 and 6, sometime before the end of 5x22: "The Beginning in the End" and the beginning of the episode 6x01: "The Mastodon in the Room."

* * *

><p>Booth lay in bed, his body utterly spent and his skin glistening with a layer of sweat, but despite the drowsiness that naturally followed on the heels of his exertions, his mind was busy with a thousand competing thoughts.<p>

He felt her slender fingers curl into a fist on his chest and rolled his head to the side, smiling vaguely at her as he saw her face, her features hidden behind a cascading veil of wavy blond hair. He watched her sleep, and as the seconds ran into minutes, even his racing mind seemed to succumb to the inescapable draw of sleep.

At some later point, although he wasn't really sure how it happened, when, or why, Booth sat up in his bunk, not having remembered when he'd actually left Hannah's bed and returned to his own bunk. The first thing he noticed was that he was covered in sweat. He had perspired all the way through his skivvies and his khaki T-shirt, which clung to him uncomfortably and caused him to curse the cotton/poly blend of his Army Combat Uniform shirt and trousers. He felt a bead of sweat shake loose from the close-cropped (but not quite buzz-cut) hair at the back of his head and dribble down the nape of his neck. Booth hated being sweaty this way. If there was any one sensation that reminded him every moment where he was—condemned to serve out a twelve-month sentence here in the sandbox with tens of thousands of other, mostly much younger, men—it was the ever-present sweat that clung to him every minute of every day, whether he was awake or asleep, fighting or patrolling, eating or Skyping with his son.

The sweat—sticky, damp and irritating—was always there, in all of its irksome forms: individual beads of perspiration that dripped down the backs of his arms, the salty damp that soaked through his Army-issue T-shirt and stuck to him like an heavy cloak in a torrential rainstorm, and the thin layer of wet that covered every inch of his skin as he lay in his bunk, praying for deep, dreamless sleep to claim him at last.

The second thing Booth noticed was a tightness in his temple, a tension that, once he observed it, seemed to spread its tendrils over the top of his head and down his jaw and around his neck to his shoulders.

_What the hell am I doing here? _he wondered. _What the fuck am I doing in Afghanistan? I don't belong here, not at all. This isn't how it's supposed to be right now. This is __so __fucking stupid. How did this happen? God, this is such a fucking nightmare. _He gritted his teeth as a cascade of painful images washed over him that seemed to hold the key to answering his question...

He remembered sitting next to her on the couch in Sweets' office.

_"One of you has to have the courage to break this stalemate," Sweets said. He turned to Booth and pointed at him with a wagging finger. "You. It's gotta be you because you're the gambler."_

Booth cursed the memory and cursed himself for letting the baby-faced shrink manipulate him that way.

He remembered standing on the steps behind the Hoover that night, the Washington Monument standing tall and glowing bright in the distance...

_"I'm the gambler," he'd told her. "I believe in giving this a chance." He'd searched her face, a knot forming in the pit of his stomach as he'd struggled to interpret the unreadable expression in her pale gray eyes. "Look," he'd said hopefully, now that he was finally taking the chance he'd wanted to for so long to tell her how he really felt. "I wanna give this a shot."_

"_You mean us?" she'd said. He nodded hopefully. "No..." she said, the panic clear in her voice as she gave a small shake of her head. "The FBI won't let us work together as a couple—"_

_His mouth fell open as his breath caught in his throat. "Don't do that," he pleaded, almost begging her not to ruin them before they'd even had a real chance to be together. "That is no reason why we can't..."_

_Booth's jaw tightened as he realized he had no more words to offer in explanation. And, instead, he decided he could only respond with actions. He took a step towards her and kissed her, covering her slender pink lips with his mouth. He felt her mouth move beneath his, kissing him back gingerly before she reluctantly pressed her hands against his chest and pushed him away with a grunt._

"_No," she said sadly, the tears starting to fall already as she said the single word again like it held some magic source of power to undo what Booth had just done to both of them. "No..."_

As the memory of staring at her played in his mind, the overwhelming sense of rejection, sadness, loss, and futility that he'd been battling for months had come rushing back with it. Feeling an overwhelming sense of depression, Booth shook his head as the resentment he'd been fighting at the myriad of emotions also started to rear its head once more.

In that moment, Booth knew he had to get away, to find a place to be alone, somewhere to escape the misery—or perhaps, to indulge himself by immersing himself in it until he drowned. He couldn't be sure except that he wanted to get away from the buzz of activity in the barracks that was his home away from home, the prefabricated building that housed the bunks and footlockers for his company's Special Forces Operational Detachment-A. Booth sat up in his bunk, the pressure of his tension headache gripping the sides of his head even tighter with every passing minute. Every sound around him irritated him. A rosy-cheeked staff sergeant sat on a nearby bunk with his iPod, bobbing his head and shoulders in time with the music that squeaked out of the tinny little pair of portable, battery-operated speakers that he'd plugged into.

_I don't want you to give it all up_**  
><strong>_And leave your own life collecting dust_**  
><strong>_And I don't want you to feel sorry for me_**  
><strong>_You never gave us a chance to be_

Booth's hands curled into fists as he heard the words. _Oh God, _he thought. _Not that goddamn, fucking song again. _He shook his head angrily as if by force of will he could shake the sound and the meaning of the words out of his head. _I really hate that goddamn song! I hate it!_

_And I don't need you to be by my side_**  
><strong>_To tell me that everything's alright_**  
><strong>_I just wanted you to tell me the truth_**  
><strong>_You know I'd do that for you_**  
><strong>_So why are you running away?_

"Aw, fuck me," he hissed. Swiveling his head to glare at the staff sergeant, he barked, "Swindoll!"

The young man's head snapped up in surprise at hearing his name spoken that way by his sergeant major. "Yes, Sergeant Major?" the young man said, his voice trembling slightly. "I'm just listening to some tunes, Sergeant Major."

"Ever hear of effin' headphones, Swindoll?" Booth snapped.

"Yes, Sarge," the young man muttered, noting the sharpness of Booth's voice as he reached down, flicked the pause button on the iPod, and looked away.

Booth glanced down and, for a fleeting moment, considered pulling out his Beretta 9mm sidearm that was strapped onto his thigh and pumping a couple of rounds into the obnoxious little pair of speakers—that chirped out the words as if just to mock him—in order to silence them. _It worked with the clown that one time, didn't it? _Then a voice in the back of his head grabbed his attention. _Hey, Booth, _it said. _You want out of Afghanistan? Well, that's one way to do it, boy. The good news? You'll get your ass on the next stateside-bound transport out of Bagram. The bad news? You'll be PCS'd to Fort Leavenworth, Kansas for a five-year stint_**—**_because we can't really call __that __a deployment, can we? So get a grip, Booth. Get up, and get out of here. Take a fucking walk or something. Leave the staff sergeant alone. It's not the kid's fault that you've got yourself tied up in knots._**  
><strong>**  
><strong>Booth growled and stood up roughly, shook his head at Swindoll, and stalked out of the barracks. He felt his footsteps fall onto the dusty ground below, leaving tell-tale tracks where the tread of his boots left their distinctive imprint in the Afghan sand. The sand made a grinding sound beneath his boots that irritated him even more, souring his mood even further.

Booth walked around the side of the SFOD-A barracks, past the enlisted mess and around the back side of the officer's mess where he'd found a quiet place a few months back. And, then he saw it. The little spot he liked in the shade—even the old stool he'd found laying around—had been appropriated by a specialist so young he looked like he'd just gotten his learner's permit. As Booth approached where the soldier was seated, he noted that the specialist held the buttstock of his M4 carbine between his feet, the barrel of the rifle emerging between his knees. He heard the specialist whistle a tune between his teeth, a tune that struck Booth as vaguely familiar. As he continued walking towards the young man, Booth felt a strange sensation of _deja-vu _as he suddenly remembered sitting cross-legged on the floor of his grandparents' den in front of their new hi-fi stereo with a stack of his grandmother's vinyl record albums listening to the very song the specialist was whistling.

_Pussycat, Pussycat_**  
><strong>_You're so thrilling_**  
><strong>_And I'm so willing_**  
><strong>_To care for you._**  
><strong>_So go and make up your cute little pussycat face!_

Booth watched the specialist clean the barrel of his M4 carbine, threading a tiny white, lubricant-soaked patch of cloth through the end of his cleaning rod before sliding the rod into the rifle's muzzle.

_Pussycat, Pussycat_**  
><strong>_I love you_**  
><strong>_Yes, I do!_**  
><strong>_You and your pussycat face!_

Booth arched his brow and shook his head as the young man sang in a rich baritone.

_What's new pussycat? Woah, Woah_**  
><strong>_What's new pussycat? Woah, Woah_

_Okay, _Booth murmured to himself. _That's just fucking weird. _He wondered how the singing specialist managed to survive that long without getting his ass thoroughly kicked by the other soldiers in his unit. _Yeah, _he told himself with a sharp shake of his head. _Like that would ever really happen. Ha_—_I'm dreaming, __definitely __dreaming_—_or, at the very least, I wish I was_—

Booth sighed heavily and turned on his heel, then began to make his way towards the other end of the camp. He walked down the road between the officers' mess and the enlisted mess, then behind the company armory, past the battalion medical unit and past an ammunition depot building to a small copse of fig trees.

He felt a sudden and intense flare of anger flash through his chest and he saw another young soldier—this time a blond-haired three-stripe sergeant with a severe high-and-tight and a Ranger tab on his shoulder—sitting Indian-style at the base of Booth's favorite fig tree with a pair of white earbuds dangling from his sunburned ears. As he walked closer to the young Ranger, Booth noticed that—even though the young sergeant was wearing earphones and appeared to be singing along with the music in a low voice—he could hear the music's hard-driving yet intricately interwoven guitar melody, galloping bass line and the singer's soaring tenor quite clearly.

_Don't waste your time_**  
><strong>_Always searching for those wasted years_**  
><strong>_Face up...make your stand_**  
><strong>_And realize you're living in the golden years_

Booth squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. As he listened to the song's words, he clenched and unclenched his fists, his nostrils flaring as his anger surged. "What a fucking nightmare,"he growled to himself. "Alone," he muttered. "Jesus Christ, all I want to do is be _alone_. Since when is it this fucking difficult to find a space to be by myself? Fuck!" He looked around, wondering where he could find himself a space away from the unwanted noise and unwanted company that populated the dusty, crowded Army encampment.

_Too much time on my hands_**  
><strong>_I got you on my mind_**  
><strong>_Can't ease this pain, so easily_**  
><strong>_When you can't find the words to say_**  
><strong>_It's hard to make it through another day_**  
><strong>_And it makes me want to cry_**  
><strong>_And throw my hands up to the sky_

"Fuck," Booth spat, repeating the curse word in an attempt to get some relief as he pinched the bridge of his nose and turned away from the heavy metal-playing sergeant and began to stomp back in the direction of the ammunition depot building. He felt the hot Afghan breeze blow, speckling the side of his face with sand, and he squinted, trying to keep the dust out of his eyes as he grabbed the door handle at the front of the modest-looking outbuilding. _God, I hate this fucking place. I hate it so fucking much. Everything's just sweat, sand, and sun—except in the winter when it's cold as fuck. I'm never going to be able to go to the beach and have a good time again 'cause this place has ruined the whole sand, sun thing forever. Assholes. _He grimaced at the sign on the outside wall, adjacent to the door: 'Proudly Built for Our Brave Men and Women by KBR.' _What a crock of shit, _he frowned as he yanked the door open and quickly pulled it shut behind him with a firm _clank_.

Finally, he felt the tightness in his neck and shoulders begin to relax as he exhaled slowly, the soft whoosh of his breath and the clunk of his sandy boots against the concrete floor the only sound he heard. He glanced around the small building's single, dimly-lit room and smirked at the scores of wooden crates with '5.56x45mm NATO**' **stenciled on the side. Other crates were stacked in the corners marked '12.7x99mm NATO, Armor-Piercing Tungsten' and '12.7x99mm NATO, Tracer,' and yet others labeled 'M67 Fragmentation Grenade' and even a couple of containers of mortar ammunition labeled '60mm HE.' Booth rolled his eyes as it occurred to him how ludicrous it was that the only place he could find to get away from the war, even temporarily, was a glorified storage shed for the weapons of war. _What a fucking nightmare, _he told himself again. _What a colossal fucking mistake this was, coming here. What was I thinking?_

Booth plunked himself down on a crate of rifle ammunition and buried his head in his hands. He sat there that way for several minutes, shaking his head and trying to relax the remaining tendrils of anxiety and frustration from his jaw muscles. No sooner had he started to finally find the calm he'd sought when the door opened, nearly blinding him as a bright beam of sunlight shot into his face and swept across the room. He heard footsteps pass through the doorway when he let his hand fall away from his brow and recognized the silhouetted figure that stood before him.

Booth was shocked to see the last person he had ever thought—or ever wanted to see in that single moment—walking into the dim half-light of the prefabricated building.

With an easy smile, her voice unusually playful and a bit more husky than Booth was used to hearing, Brennan spoke to him with jaunty nod. "Hey, soldier."

"Bones?" Booth asked. "What in the hell are you doing here? I thought you were in Maluku looking for the missing link."

"Let's just say," Brennan laughed ironically, "that for the purposes of this scenario, as unrealistic as it may sound, I got a few days off."

"I don't care," Booth said miserably. "I came here to be alone, Bones, not to be haunted by you in some weird riff on me being Ebeneezer Scrooge and you being Jacob Marley or something. Go away."

"I'm not, nor have I ever been your boss, Booth, so I'm not certain the analogy holds," Brennan said with a slight, but still playful, frown. "And, just for the record, I'm not a ghost, either. I'm very, _very _much a real person. And, as for the last point—are you really certain you want me to leave?"

"Wait," Booth said, shaking his head and, for his own sanity, ignoring the insinuation of her last statement. "You know who Jacob Marley is?"

"Of course," Brennan said with a nod of her head. "Why wouldn't I?"

"I've gotta be dreaming," Booth said, "for you to get a pop culture reference like that—"

"I don't see why you're so surprised," she told him. "Since its publication in December 1843, _A Christmas Carol _has been so popular that it's been often considered one of, if not the most, famous of Dickens' numerous works."

"Of course, if it was a book some dead white guy wrote two hundred years ago—"

"Dickens only died in 1870, Booth, so that is actually only approximately 140 years ago, give or take a few years," Brennan said with a tilt of her head.

"Oh, man," he said, shaking his head, the irritation in his voice increasing with every word he spoke. "See, this...this part is something I haven't missed."

"What?" Brennan asked innocently.

"The part where you just verbally squintify something to death," Booth said. "It's just so fucking tedious sometimes, Bones."

"Oh, okay," Brennan said with a nod, as if his words had made complete and total sense to her, and, moreover, she wasn't insulted by them. "You're right. Sorry. Old habits die hard, metaphorically speaking." She paused, glanced down at herself and then over at Booth as she gave him another solicitous grin. "So, since I fucked up the first time, how about we try this thing again, huh?"

"What?" Booth asked, a bit confused as he looked at her. "What in the hell are you talking about, Bones?"

Taking a step back from him, Brennan looked down and shook her head as she muttered to herself. "Yes, I think that's the best course of action," she agreed. "We'll start over. But, to do that and accomplish my goals, this outfit isn't really going to work, is it? As it stands now, it's not very appropriate—"

Booth watched in curiosity as Brennan suddenly began to unbutton the long-sleeve dark red shirt she wore over a fairly nondescript pair of khaki cargo pants. When she had finished unbuttoning the blouse, she let it hang open over her chest, revealing a matching dark red spaghetti strap tank top. Her full breasts were accented by the silky material of the cotton-Lycra blend of the tank top. The tank top clung to her curves in a way that made Booth's mouth go dry. When she'd finished unbuttoning the shirt, she reached up and pulled her hair lose from the messy ponytail to which it had been confined. Shaking it out, her hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders.

"Better?" she asked, her eyes alight with emotion as she sought his approval. "What do you think?"

Unable to help keep his admiration unvoiced any longer, Booth said quietly, "_Woooooww_."

Looking up at him, Brennan smiled, stuck her hip out a bit, and nodded at him as she said in a playful tone, "So, you looking for a good time, soldier?"

Mesmerized by the swell of her breasts and the way they'd moved when she shook her hair out, Booth was unable to look away as he distractedly said, "Yeah—look at you." Booth's throat had gone even drier, but he still swallowed hard as he breathed, "Wow."

Brennan, amused by his distraction, said softly, "You didn't answer the question, Booth."

"Huh?" Booth asked. Meeting Brennan's gaze, he suddenly snapped out of the spell her tits had seemingly wrought on him. He felt a distinct tingle in his fingertips as his bicep muscle twitched. He wanted to touch them, to squeeze them in his hands. "So, _ummm_**—**well, I, _ahh, _I thought I was looking for a good time—" He stopped, blinked a few times before he reluctantly pulled his eyes away from her chest and then tilted his head up sadly as he shook his head. "But, the truth is, Bones, that I think I'm looking for a little bit more."

Frowning a bit, Brennan said, "Don't underestimate a good time, Booth. Sometimes it's all we can expect in life."

"No," he insisted. "Not for me. I—" Booth stopped, letting his words trail off as his masochistic brain chose _that _particular moment to remind him of all the negative thoughts that had prompted him to seek out the solitude that had brought him to the ammo dump in the first place. His resolve hardening, Booth's chin tightened as he narrowed his eyes at her and said, "I—I deserve more, Bones."

"Oh," she said. With a slight nod, she finally added, "Yes, well, you have said that before, haven't you? My apologies. I'd forgotten how important verbiage can be for you." She looked at him, holding his gaze for a moment before she added with a tilt of her head, "Very well, forgive my imprecise diction, Booth."

Taking another step towards him, the sway in her hips quite pronounced, Brennan said, "I believe you once asked me to take a chance on you." She smiled at him, admiring the way his sweat-damp khaki T-shirt clung to the round, well-toned muscles of his shoulders and upper arms. "Well, Booth—for however long it lasts while we're here and now, consider my previous answer rescinded." He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, his brow furrowed as he listened to her. "For now, while we're here, I'm willing to take that chance—if you still want to, what was it you said—go for a different outcome, within the confines of this building?"

Her words almost seemed to mock him. Booth felt his anger grow as he looked at her and pointed a finger, "You know what, Bones? You can go to hell—just go to hell."

"What are you talking about, Booth?" she replied, her eyebrows raised in surprise. "Aren't you happy to see me? I'm here, _finally_. I'm telling you what you thought you wanted to hear coming out of my lips at long last, aren't I? Isn't that what you thought you wanted? Aren't _I _what you wanted?"

"Fuck, no," Booth spat at her, shaking his head in disgust at her arrogant presumptions and the split second when he'd actually considered taking her up on the offer. "You know what? Fuck you, Bones. Who in the hell do you think you are? You're too late, Bones—too goddamn late." He stopped, the anger radiating off of him in waves, and then his dark eyes hardened even more as his brain finished processing the exact wording of her offer. "And, you know what? What the fuck do you mean 'for now, while we're here?' What—I'm not good enough for more, Bones?"

"It's what I can give you," Brennan said simply. "I assumed that you'd be so ecstatic that I was finally making the offer that you wouldn't care about the conditions. So, this is sort of a take it or leave it situation, Booth."

At that, Booth laughed darkly. "God, I knew you can be an egoistical bitch when you want to be, but I think I'd forgotten it since it's been a while since you pulled that shit with me."

"I am as I am, Booth," Brennan shrugged. "Like I said, I can't change, Booth. And, this is a one-time thing, by the way. I'm not gonna make the offer again. You can take me as I am or not at all. That's the deal."

"Who in the fuck do you think you are to be coming here and dictating terms to me, Bones? And, after all this time?" Booth felt his chest tighten as his anger began to bubble up into his throat. "You've had almost nine months," he snapped. "You're a little fucking late, Bones—two months between that fucking horrendous night we met with Sweets and you did that patent rejection thing that you do so well on the steps in front of the Hoover and when you left for the Moochie-coo Islands, plus the six and a half months that I've been stuck in this fucking sandbox—"

He gritted his teeth as he recalled how the days, weeks, and months of his deployment in Afghanistan had dragged on endlessly. He thought about the long stretches of breathtaking tedium punctuated by teeth-chattering rides on unpaved roads—_as if you can really even call those single-track goatpaths 'roads,' _he thought miserably—and heart-pounding, confidence-shattering missions with the poorly-trained, poorly-led and poorly-equipped Afghan National Police that he was charged with training into a rapid-response anti-terror and anti-insurgency unit.

"God, I can't believe you. You've got a lot of fucking gall, you know, Bones? I laid my soul bare that night at the Hoover, you know? I put all my fucking cards on the table, told you how I really felt, and asked you to take a chance on me, and you said no. I put my heart out there, right there on the table, and you took a good whack at it with your little meat cleaver. Do you have any fucking idea what you did to me that night? You made me feel like a real fucking jagoff, by the way." He leveled his eyes and stared at her, his jaw muscles rigid with anger. As she stared back at him in silence, Booth continued to feel his anger grow. Frustrated that she wasn't verbally responding, he gestured with his hands as he said, "Huh, Bones? Is any of this ringing a bell there or what? It sound familiar at all?"

She licked her lips once but said nothing, as if she knew at that moment that any retort on her end would simply light him off further.

"Yeah, I know," he said, standing up from the ammo crate that had served as his makeshift stool and walking up to Brennan, leaning in so close to her that he could smell the coconut-ginger scent of her freshly-shampooed hair. "I get it," he snorted. "I've gotten it—you don't have anything to say, right? Well, good. Because I've already heard all your asinine bullshit about why you didn't want to give us a chance, Bones, when there was really a chance to be had. So you've got balls, real balls of steel, Bones, to come here, to Af-_fuckin'_-ghanistan—after all that you put me through. You came _here, _unannounced_,_and now you expect me to drop everything and welcome you with open arms? You're fucking nuts if you think that's going to happen now."

"Booth," she said with a dry laugh, seemingly having recovered her ability to speak once more. "I'm female. Technically, we don't have testicles, but my reproductive organs are ovaries, just so you know."

He rolled his eyes and leaned in even closer, his nose nearly touching hers. "I'm very well aware that you're female, Bones," he said, brushing his chest against hers with a soft, nearly inaudible grunt. "Damn—goddamn it, Bones. Do you always have to do that? You are _so _fucking literal."

She cocked her head and smirked. "I've noticed your use of profanity has become much greater since you went back into the Army, Booth," she said. "Particularly the use of the term 'fuck' and its gerund forms. In fact, you seem to talk a lot about _fucking__._"

"Huh," Booth grunted, lifting his chin as he looked down into her pale, twinkling eyes. "You know what? I don't even know why I even bother, Bones. Why am I even bothering with you now? Maybe you should just do what you said you were going to do and leave me the fuck alone—"

She laughed again. "I'll leave if you really want me to, Booth, but I think we both know that's the last thing you want from me." She stopped, tilting her head as she looked at him and said, "You know why you bother with me, Booth? It's because you can't help yourself. You've never been able to help yourself where I'm concerned. From the very first day, that was it. You said it yourself. From that point on, your soul was sold. I was in your blood. And, you can run from me, Booth. But you'll never be able to leave me behind or move on. The fact is, you want me—you want me more than anything you ever wanted before," she said with a slight jerk of her head, a lock of her hair falling over her ear as she did. "You've wanted me for years, Booth—you've always wanted me. Since that very first day, it's true. You know, I know it, we both know it—"

**"**You—" Booth reached up and grabbed her upper arm, his strong fingers closing around her flesh hard enough to bruise. "You have no fuckin' clue, none at all," he grunted angrily, his teeth gritted as he spat out each word.

His mouth went dry and his throat hardened into a painful, stony lump as he thought about all the times he'd watched her, his stomach fluttering and his heart swelling every time he saw her walk into a room as he fell harder and harder for her as the weeks and months of their partnership turned into years.

"I can't deny it. I _did _want you. I wanted you more than anything I've ever wanted before because I loved you, Bones," he said bitterly. "I've loved you for years."

For a few moments, he stood there, gripping her arm tightly in his hand, but said nothing as his mind thumbed through a visual Rolodex of the cases they had worked together, each case flashing before his eyes as he saw the faces of the victims and the gruesome way their remains had been found. He remembered conversations over countless beers and glasses of wine at the Founding Fathers, and the endless boxes of late night Thai carryout as they completed paperwork, and he tried to remember _when _it all began to come apart—when the rigid wall he had built between the personal and the professional began to crack and crumble.

"Whatever happened to the line, Bones?" he asked her. Without really even looking at her, much less waiting for her answer. "When did the line disappear? It was there for a reason, wasn't it? When did it just go away? When—and more importantly, why? You know the rules. It was there for a reason. It was supposed to stay there for a goddamn reason. This is all your fault, you know. It was never supposed to go away!"

"The line?" she blurted, an incredulous look on her face. "My fault? You think _that _was my fault? What complete horseshit! The line was never _my _idea, Booth. The line was _your _idea, remember? Don't blame me for that one, Booth, because that's all on you."

"The line was there to protect you," he said weakly. "To protect us."

"From what?" she hissed, narrowing her eyes and shaking her head. "That's nonsense. The line was there to protect _you, _Booth. It gave you an out. If there had been no line, you'd have had to face up to the reality of our situation far, far sooner. So, cut the crap, Booth and get over it. Don't lay this at my feet. Own this thing you've created. It's yours, all yours. It's time to stop fucking around here and do the right thing. It's time you owned your own feelings, Booth. Be a man, Booth. Grow a set, and own your failings. Don't try to pin them on me."

For a moment, he stared at her, slack-jawed. Suddenly, a wave of nausea crashed over him, and he felt light-headed as he listened to her words, because he knew, though it sickened him to admit it, that she was right.

"I've been in love with you since at least the middle of the second year of us working together, Bones," he admitted, his voice briefly fading to a normal volume before the anguished hurt amplified his baritone once more. "I loved you so much—so much that I was willing to wait for you. I was trying to be patient, to give you the time you needed to get your head screwed on straight and stopping being so fucking afraid of us, of what we could be. But you're right, I suppose that can be just as easily turned around so that it looks like I took the easy way out. I was _too _patient, wasn't I? Maybe I needed to be a bit more aggressive with you a long time ago."

He brought his other hand up and grasped her other arm tight, shaking her lightly as he spoke. "But, you know what, Bones? I'm done. I'm over it. I've spent six years letting my love for you be the driving force in almost every goddamn choice I've made. You know what? No more. I'm done with you. It's over. Hell, it's actually not _over _because we never even started. So, we're done here."

He released her arm and turned away from her, placing a few steps of much needed space between them. "This is over. Go away, Bones. Go haunt someone else."

Her face flushed a bit at his pat rejection of her, and she refused to move. Crossing her arms in a defensive stance, she narrowed her eyes as she said, "Do you think it's really _that _fucking easy, Booth? Do you think you can get rid of me _that _easily and just be done with it—be finished with me just like that? I don't think so—"

Looking at her with a hardness in his eyes that had intimidated adversaries from two-bit dope pushers and pawnshop fence operators to murderous Salvadoran drug lords and some of the worst serial killers in U.S. history, Booth was silently, reluctantly impressed when Brennan refused to be cowed into backing down.

"You said if I wanted you to go that you would go," he said. "Well, fine. I'm telling you—I don't want you here. Go!"

Again, Brennan laughed, a shallow and taunting laugh that merely stoked Booth's anger. "What's so funny, Bones?"

"You are," she said, wagging her index finger at him. "You're lying."

"No, I'm not," Booth said. "I'm over this—I'm over us, not that there really ever was an 'us'—thanks to you, Bones—and I'm over you."

"Liar."

Narrowing his eyes, Booth shook his head. "I'm not lying. We're done, Bones. Just like you wanted it. I'm moving on. Remember? I told you, if you turned me down, then I had to move on. And, this—" he stopped and gestured around him, mentally inventorying the stunning array of lethal ordnance that surrounded them. "This is the hell you've consigned me to as a consequence of moving on, so leave me the fuck alone." He then added, in a somewhat uncharacteristically softer voice, a half-plea. "_Please_."

Taking a step towards him and closing the distance between them, Brennan's voice had become velvety in the way she spoke the words that hit Booth like a sucker punch to the gut. "If you're not lying, Booth—if you've truly moved on...and, I do applaud you, by the way, for making the best efforts in that impromptu and uncharacteristic tumble you had with the blonde war journalist who welcomed you with open arms—and legs—so elegantly, then why are you here with me now?" Brennan asked. "Why are you here with me instead of with her? She's in your bed, isn't she? Isn't she waiting for you?"

"Well, yeah, she is, but—wait. What?" He flushed in embarrassment. "How do you even know about her?"

"I know about a lot of things," Brennan said simply. "Now, do you have an answer for my question, or what?"

"You know what?" Booth asked, recovering a bit of his composure. "You're right. I have a woman waiting for me who's never said no—"

"I don't know if I would take that personally," she said tartly. "Somehow I get the sense that she doesn't say no to anyone."

His head snapped up at her words. "Don't—"

"Oh, please, Booth." Brennan drawled. "Spare me the spirited but disingenuous defense of the blonde bedwarmer."

"Who in the hell do you think you are?" Booth asked. "Where do you get off, Bones?"

"I'm still waiting for my answer, Booth," she insisted. "Now, how long are you going to keep me waiting?"

"That's it," he said, shaking his head and throwing his hands up in frustration. "I've had enough. I'm done here." He moved to walk away from her, and it was only when Brennan spoke again that he stopped mid-stride.

"Of course. How predictable, Booth," Brennan sighed heavily. "How trite. How predictably trite. But, of course, you would walk away, wouldn't you? That's what you always do, isn't it? You keep letting me go. You make it so easy for me to walk away from you, to keep leaving you. You've never, not once, stopped and did what you had to do to get what you wanted, Booth. You've never once done what you needed to do to keep me from leaving. So, why is that, Booth? Is it because, deep down, you think that you're not good enough for me? That you think that you'll never be worthy of being with me? Is that why you keep doing this?"

Brennan shook her head in a sad way as she said, "You know, for a sniper, I don't know how in the hell you ever get the job done when you never been able to pull the trigger—"

Her words continued to peel away layer after layer of his innermost thoughts and feelings as she revealed new insecurities that frayed Booth's grip on his self-control. Walking towards her, he grabbed her arm again, this time exerting enough pressure that he knew without a doubt that he'd leave behind fingertip-shaped bruises. Yanking her towards him, Booth brought her face so that his cheek rested next to hers as he growled, "Is this what you want, Bones? Is this what you want from me?"

"Action instead of inaction would be a nice change of pace, Booth," Brennan whispered. "The question is, are you going to follow through this time or are you going to just going to keep waiting?"

"Fuck waiting. Fuck being patient. Fuck holding back." His breaths came harder and faster as his nostrils flared with emotion. "I'm fucking done with holding back," he growled. "You really wanna see me pull the trigger, Bones? Fine. Fuck it. Then, this is me pulling the trigger."

Booth grabbed the side of her face with his free hand and moved his mouth to hers, forcing open her lips with his tongue. His kiss was greedy, rough, and demanding. He brokered no resistance as he plundered her mouth, kissing her so deeply that it was almost as if he was trying to reach deeply enough into her to steal her soul. When they at last parted, he barely let their heads part enough so that they could draw the requisite oxygen back into their lungs. As they gasped for breath, each of them could feel the hard fall of their breaths on the other's cheeks.

"You want to know how I feel? How I felt about you all that time? For all those goddamn years? How badly I fucking wanted you, but did fucking _nothing?" _He shook her once more, her eyes widening as she realized his anger was not a transient occurrence but rather the long-awaited flare of a long-smoldering rage. "This it is, Bones. Here it is."

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><p><strong>AN2****:**

_Well, that was definitely some heavy shit, huh? (And we're not talking about the ordnance.)_

_Poor sad, angry, heartbroken (not to mention oh-so-aroused) Booth. You'd offer him a hug but, well, he's just a little bit scary at the moment. Just remember to keep an open mind. We've got four more chapters to go before you see how this ends. (And we promise you'll be happy with how it ends.) _

_But wait a minute—this is an M-rated fic, and there wasn't really any M-rated goodness in that last chapter, which must mean_**—**_yes, indeed, that stuff will be coming (pun intended) in the next four chapters. That is, if you guys still think you want to see the other four chapters _:: blinks ::

_If you want to see what angry soldier!Booth and snarky!Brennan do next, you do have to pay the boatman. In this case, pieces of silver are not required (and you don't have to be dead—bonus!). _

_You simply have to tell me and __**Lesera128 **__what you thought of this first chapter. Press that little review button and do your thing. Yes, that one—right down there. That's the one._

_Musical references in this chapter: (1) "Running Away" from Hoobastank; (2) "What's New Pussycat" by Tom Jones; and (3) "Wasted Years" by Iron Maiden. (Who could put those three songs in a single chapter? You know who.)_

**Hey, wait a second! **

_You didn't forget about that review, did you? Of course not. You wouldn't read and run... _

_[insert sad!Booth puppy dog eyes here]_

_Did it work?_


	6. 6—Cooking Off Ammo, Pt II

**A Very Bad Idea**

**By****:** Lesera128 & dharmamonkey

**Rated****: **M

**Disclaimer****: **Ummm, nope, we still don't own anything. We have, however, apparently become squatters in the sandbox that we crashed...so, umm...yeah. There we go.

**A/N**: As was the case for Scenario #1, consider yourself warned that Scenario #2 contains some really aggressive/angry interactions between Booth and Brennan. However, _everything _that was done was done for a reason and so, as Booth told Brennan once, "just try to keep an open mind." Things will start to make sense soon. We promise. We're fairly certain you'll like how this ends, if you'll hang in there.

* * *

><p><strong>II<strong>**. ****Cooking ****Off ****Ammo****, ****Part ****II**

**Pertinent ****Details ****on ****Scenario**** #2****: **Set in-between seasons 5 and 6, sometime before the end of 5x22: "The Beginning in the End" and the beginning of the episode 6x01: "The Mastodon in the Room."

* * *

><p>Brennan stared at Booth, her eyes bright with some type of emotional challenge as she refused to be cowed by her partner's glare. They stared at each other for more than a minute before she finally laughed in mocking insolence as she nodded at him with a knowing look.<p>

"So, you _do _want me, after all, Booth?" she asked, raising her chin and narrowing her pale eyes as she leveled at him what would be considered—at least, by any normal person—a withering stare, but he didn't flinch at all, his eyes holding her gaze. "Huh. How about that! I never would've guessed—" She stopped and then smiled. "Of course, that was before you kissed me. Maybe you should've done that before now, huh? Maybe it wouldn't have been a bad idea to let me know how you really feel with some showing instead of telling since you sucked fairly badly at that before, don't you think?"

Booth blinked twice at her words, but said nothing. Brennan leaned into to him, sensing his hesitation.

"Now, now, Booth. What's that? You aren't having second thoughts, are you? There's still time, you know. You haven't crossed the point of no return. You can still turn back, do that thing you always do, and just pretend that you don't feel anything beyond what's safe and acceptable for two partners to feel for one another." She paused, a smirk danced swiftly across her lips and then vanished again before she snickered. "Or, at least one of them, right? In either case, if you have had another change of heart and want to uncock the trigger, that's no problem." She shrugged and she looked into his eyes. "And, moreover, if you are having second thoughts, I wouldn't be surprised in the slightest, just FYI."

Booth felt his jaw harden and his brow furrow to the point that he felt his eyes narrow beneath heavy, angry lids. He seethed, the vague tingle at the base of his spine surging as his anger peaked, but he said nothing as she continued her rant.

Her voice lowered as she continued. "Yeah. I mean, that's the question that really has to be asked, isn't it? Are you sure you want me, Booth?" She narrowed her eyes even more as she slowly shook her head. "Yes, I think that's the question that needs to be asked because despite all your pissy little claims to the contrary, I'm not so certain. You've spent years doing nothing, _nothing _to let me know that you wanted me...at least, before today. Oh, sure, I'd catch you in an odd moment here and there looking at me in a strange way. But, before that night in front of the Hoover, there was nothing. There was no solid evidence—no concrete facts that you wanted me besides some vague words you tossed at me. So, why should I think that now is any different?" She paused, cocked her head and looked at him with a skeptical mien. "Why here? Why now?" Brennan asked, almost as if she could see into the deepest and darkest parts of his soul, dig up his worst fears and insecurities with her hand little trowel, brush them off, and shove them back in his face for anyone to see.

"Don't push me, Bones," he whispered to her. "We're close, real close to going over the edge here, do you understand?"

"What, Booth?" Brennan asked, clearly unimpressed and unaffected by his warning. "Is this your way of telling me that you think you're losing control? Because, statistically, given your previous patterns of behavior, the odds would indicate that you aren't going to deviate from your standard and predictable reaction to me."

"Bones—" he growled.

"You lose control, Booth?" Brennan blinked at him several times and then slowly shook her head. "No, I don't think so. You don't do that, remember? You never do that. I think you're just going to keep on obfuscating the way you've done for some five-odd years now, aren't you?" She paused. "I'm right, aren't I? I know it's difficult for you to admit when you're wrong and I'm right, but try, Booth. Just this once, go ahead and admit it because I'm just not convinced that you're capable of doing anything differently. Your admirable patience—which I think is still under review at the Vatican as an evidence of a holy miracle, pending your application for canonization as a martyred saint—does seem to be wearing a bit thin here, but I imagine it'll be enough to hold." She smiled smugly, pleased at the cleverness of her taunts.

"Bones, be very careful," Booth whispered. "I'm warning you—"

"Fuck being careful," Brennan told him. "I'm here, Booth. Now. With you. Now, the question is, what's going to happen next?"

"I'll tell you what I'm going to do, Bones—" His voice faltered as he contemplated what to say to her, knowing full well he was precipitously close to spinning out of control once and for all.

"You're going to do what, Booth?" She blinked at him, apparently growing bored with his prevaricating. "Fuck, Booth—how many times do I need to say it? Actions speak louder than words. If you're tired of waiting, do something. If you want me, then don't wait. If you want something, _take __it__._ Do what you need to do. Don't wait. Act. Take. Now. If you want me as badly as you say you do, _fine__. _If you want me, _prove __it__._"

Brennan's last words rang heavily in his ears. Almost as if he snapped in that moment, Booth blinked at her and then moved, his decision finally made by default when she finally pushed him to the limits of his endurance. "You want me to prove it to you, Bones? Do you? You wanna know how badly I want you, Bones?" he asked, his voice a hissing growl. "This is how bad," he said as he dropped his hands to her waist and roughly unsnapped the two buttons on the waistband of her khaki cargo pants. He yanked the zipper down with a loud _rip _and twirled her around, slamming her back against a three-high stack of heavy wooden shipping crates stenciled '.40 S&W Cartridges - 10 x 200' in large black letters.

Brennan gasped as she felt his hands on her hips, reaching his hands down awkwardly to move her pants over her knees and down her calves to her ankles. She arched her back firmly at his touch, and Booth groaned at the sight of it. Moving one hand to her shoulder, pinning her to the wooden crates behind her, his other hand stroked down, the flat of his knuckles brushing against her navel before his fingers slipped underneath the elastic waistband of her cotton panties. His long, thick middle finger parted her slit, nicking across her clit before sliding into the wet space between her innermost folds.

"Yeah," he grunted. "I'm done. I'm done waiting. I'm done giving. I'm done being patient. Fuck being patient. Now, here and now, well, here are _my _conditions—this is about _me_, Bones. Not you. _Me__. _Just me." He stared into her heavy-lidded eyes as she rolled her head to the side. He thrust his middle finger into her slippery core. "All those times I wanted you, and you know what? You're right. I was a pussy. I held back. I never did what I needed to do to get where I needed to go, to make things happen. But, you know what? No more—not today, not with you...never fucking again." Booth licked his lips and narrowed his eyes, moving his finger in a circular motion inside of her, burying it all the way up to his knuckle. "I'm so fuckin' done holding back, Bones. Done."

"You're...all...talk," she whispered, her words vanishing into a gasp as he added a second finger, knuckle-deep. "All wax and no wick, eh, Booth?" Brennan taunted him, her back arching into the rough wood of the crates behind her as she felt him press hard into her. "I know you're a man who prides himself on his patience, but now it's time to put up or shut up. If you're going to take something, then _take _it."

"Huh," he grunted, thrusting his fingers into her deeply, curling them as he found the spongy little spot inside of her that had driven his other lovers wild. She moaned loudly, her hips squirming against the calloused palm of his hand. "You don't know what I'm capable of, Bones," he said, the darkness in his voice surprising even him. "But you can't say I didn't warn you—"

"Whatever," she hissed dismissively. "Now, if this is about you, then _make __it __about __you_. Quit fucking around—"

His jaw became as hard as steel at her words, and he withdrew his fingers from her. He pushed her against the crates once more then took a half-step back, bringing his hand to his mouth and sucking the slippery moisture off his fingers with a groan before reaching to quickly yank of his drab colored t-shirt. Booth then reached down to unbuckle his belt. "You have no fucking idea, do you?" he muttered as he untied the drawstrings of his Army Combat Uniform trousers and began unbuttoning his fly. "But, you're about to, Bones. You're about to—" Once the last button was free, he pushed his trousers and underwear off his hips, then frowned just as his erect cock sprang free from his pants. "Dammit," he hissed, reaching his hand down and unfastening the strap that held the Beretta 9mm pistol to his thigh. He let the pistol and its nylon/velcro holster fall to the floor with a _clunk__, _then shoved his trousers down roughly, letting them bunch around his ankles as he took a careful step towards Brennan, who stood there, leering at him with a lascivious smile on her lips.

"So, is that your gun, or are you just happy to see me, soldier?" she said in a husky voice, reaching for him. He viciously batted her hand away.

"Don't touch me," he growled. "I touch you, not the other way around. I'm doing the taking here, Bones, and you're gonna give me what I want. You're gonna give me _everything_." He noted a dark flicker behind her very pale green eyes.

With a swift tug, he yanked her panties down over her hips and slid them past her knees. Brennan mewled in protest when they bunched around her legs given her position, and she reached down and shoved them lower so that, with one last wiggle of her legs, they fell to the floor. Booth noted with an open-mouthed grin how her damp curls glistened under the ammo room's dim incandescent light.

"You want to give it to me, don't ya?" he asked, his voice so deep it was hardly audible. "I can tell, Bones, 'cause I've always been able to read you like a book. You want to give it to me, huh?"

"Why are you even asking, Booth?" she sneered. "Isn't it obvious? Especially since you pride yourself on being able to read me like a book. But, if it helps move matters along, then _yes__, _I want to give it to you, Booth—that is, if you're man enough to take it."

"Oh, when we're through here, I can guaran-_damn_-tee you I'll have fucked you hard enough that my status as a man will never be in fucking doubt, Bones. The only question is, can you handle it?" His nostrils flared at the smell of her. "Because, really, it's the least you can do for all the fucking bullshit you put me through, Bones," Booth grunted, probably more to rationalize things for himself than to her. "You're putting things right, starting right now."

"I'd be willing to consider that an even exchange," she gasped, raising her arms as he tugged on the bottom hem of her dark red spaghetti-strap tank top. He thrust his hips against her as he pulled the top over her head with both hands. A wicked smile spread across his face as her breasts were released from the flimsy shelf bra that was built into the tank.

"Oh, yeah," Booth said in a low voice, unable to keep the appreciation from his voice at the sight of her tits upthrust and perfect and merely waiting for him to finally touch them. He was unhappy with himself for allowing some type of admiration from creeping into his tone, but the thought was quickly pushed away as Booth tossed the tank top to the side where it fell limply between two crates of high-explosive 60 millimeter mortar shells. He reached his hands up to her breasts and palmed them with his large, veiny hands, giving each of them a short squeeze before running his thumbs across the erect buds of her nipples. "I always knew you had great tits, but _fuck_," he whispered, dropping his head to place his mouth over her right nipple. "Fuck," he moaned, taking her flesh between his teeth and biting it gently—just enough to make her wince and inhale sharply—before laving her nipple with his tongue to soothe away the sting. He sucked on her soft flesh, drawing it between his lips and into his mouth, a low groan escaping his lips as his cock twitched.

"Booth," she moaned, reaching around to cup his ass-cheeks with her hands.

Hearing her moan in pleasure as her soft hands touched his skin, he shoved her arms away with his elbows. "No!" he said firmly, wagging his finger in front of her nose. "I already told you—this isn't about you. This is about me, Bones. Just me. And that means I'm taking, and you're fucking giving, alright? You've gotta get that through your thick genius skull, okay? Because that's how this is gonna go. You got it?"

"Then do it," she half-pleaded, her voice hoarse. "Do it! For fuck's sake, pull the trigger, Booth."

Booth's breaths rose and fell in heavy pants as he held his tongue between his lips, his eyes raking up and down her body. He nudged her thighs apart with his knee, eliciting a wistful sigh from her, then he took a step back.

At his actions, Brennan's eyes focused on his with disappointment. "Oh, what now, Booth?" She paused, trying to read his face, and then shook her head as she said, "God, I knew it. I knew you wouldn't do it—" Brennan asked him, a mocking lilt to her voice.

"The position—" he mumbled, shaking his head tentatively as he glanced down at her feet, then looked out of the corner of his eye to a stack of small metal ammunition boxes a few feet away. Ignoring his words, he glanced back and forth a couple of times from Brennan to the creates and then nodded. "Take off your shoes," he snapped at her. "And get those pants off. _Now_."

"What?" she laughed, looking down and seeing the logistical difficulty that he'd astutely noted. "Oh, so that's it. Huh. My apologies, Booth. Just one question, though—are you concerned you're going to miss your target there, or what?"

"Hell no," he grunted as he glared at her. "I can put a bullet through a man's heart at a distance of over a half a mile with a single shot," he said grimly. "I sure as hell can put my dick into that hot, wet little pussy of yours within the space of two feet, Bones. And, moreover, that's _exactly _what I'm gonna fucking do. Now, will you please shut the fuck up?"

Brennan gave him a look of clear disbelief as she ignored his warning. "If that's what you're going to do, then what aren't you doing it? What's the problem here, Booth?" she sneered.

"No problem, Bones. I'm just waiting for you to get your ass in gear and do what you're told. Now, you heard me," he ground out. "Take 'em off, right now, or I will." He smacked her ass with the back of his hand as he reached for one of the 200-round ammunition boxes. "Do it," he hissed.

A wry grin spread across her lips as she toed her low-top hiking boots off and kicked them to the side, then stepped out of her cargo pants and panties, shoving them to the side with her foot. "Happy now?" she asked, sliding out of her crew socks as she watched him with curiosity.

"No," he said with a grunt as he lifted the heavy ammunition box and set it down on the concrete floor next to her feet. "But I will be—yeah, soon, I definitely will be," he observed with a smile, noting that she now stood before him without a stitch of clothing on her. "Very soon," he said, stroking himself with one hand as he patted the outside of her left thigh. "Put it up," he said vaguely.

"What?" she said, a confused look on her face.

"Put your foot on that box," he said in a low, gravelly voice. "Right now."

A look of recognition crossed over Brennan's face as she complied, raising her left leg and placing her bare left foot on the top of the cold steel box, parting her thighs as she did so, her toes curling around the edge of the metal as she tried to get a good grip. No sooner had she done so then Booth took a step towards her, closing the distance between them as he grabbed her hip and yanked her pelvis toward him. He stroked the tip of his cock up and down the length of her folds and groaned, pulling her against him as he palmed the small of her back. He pumped himself in his fist once, then twice, drew his hips back and pressed into her roughly.

"_Boooooo__-__ooooth__!" _she moaned as he stroked balls-deep into her.

He pulled himself out again slowly, then reared his hips back and slammed into her with a loud grunt. "Yeah," he bellowed, sliding out once more and then pounding into her again, holding her still with a hand on each of her hips, his fingers curled around the soft swell of her pelvis, his fingertips pressing into her flesh hard enough that his fingernails left little red, crescent-shaped marks on each side of her, leaving his mark on her soft skin as if he'd branded her. "So...fucking...good," he murmured, each word punctuated by a hard, powerful upward thrust into her. "Oh, fuck—" he groaned. "I'm taking it. Everything, Bones. _Everything_," he said, gazing into her darkened eyes as he rammed himself up and into her. "I'm going to fuck you right out of my mind. This is it. I'm going to fuck you hard enough to get you out of my system once and for all like I should've done a long, long time ago." He leaned his head back, his senses overwhelmed by the sensation of being inside of her at long last, reveling in the feeling of her impossibly tight, wet, warmth. "You feel that? _Huh__? _Can you feel me?" he demanded.

"_Yeeeeess_," she gasped. "Oh, yes."

He pounded into her relentlessly, smiling as he felt her thigh tremble and a soft shudder pass through her. Booth did not reach down to stroke her towards her own release, or to fondle her in any way once he achieved a rhythm that satisfied him for his own purposes. Ramming into her, he pulled out again, then pounded himself into her again, over and over again until he felt a raw, electric flash at the base of his spine and a desperate tugging sensation as his balls tightened. Booth felt himself rapidly unravelling, spiraling towards his release, and at the very moment before he lost all control, he looked deep into her eyes, watching her pupils dilate and her mouth gape open, a low, long groan escaping her throat as he exploded inside of her.

He grunted and pressed himself into her one last time as he pumped the last of himself into her, finally withdrawing and smiling as he watched a single, silvery drop of their combined fluids dribble down the inside of her thigh and fall onto the concrete floor.

For several minutes—how many exactly, he did not know, nor in the moments after his shattering release could he bring himself to actually care—they stood there, her left leg still propped on the drab green steel box of ammunition, his ACU trousers and skivvies still bunched carelessly around his ankles as they struggled to catch their breaths. As Booth's mind emerged from the dense haze of anger and resentment and arousal and release, he stared into her eyes and saw something that unnerved him—a softness and a vulnerability that, reflecting back at him, caused something in him to crack.

"Booth?" she said quietly, finally speaking, her voice changing markedly from her earlier insultingly mocking tones. "This...it doesn't change anything—" she began slowly. Looking deeply into his eyes, she blinked several times before she tilted her head and said softly, "You know that, right?"

"What?" he finally managed, his voice hoarse as if he'd spent hours yelling at the top of his lungs. Then, again, he thought numbly, maybe he had. "What do you mean?"

"You can't get rid of me that easily," she told him with a small smile. "This...all of this, it just proves that. You can't just fuck me out of your system. It doesn't work that way. You can't just have one fantasy and fuck me out of your mind...and your heart. It won't work. It just _won__'__t_ work—"

"Yes, I can," Booth said, pulling up his trousers and buttoning his fly. "I just did." He heard the breathlessness in his voice, and felt his chest's heavy rise and fall as the heaving of his exertions fled, leaving him utterly exhausted, physically and psychically.

"No," Brennan insisted. "None of this, none of this would've happened if that were actually going to work. I would've disappeared as soon as you came if that were the case, Booth, and you know it."

"No," Booth countered with a firm shake of his head. "You're wrong. You're lying. That's a damn lie."

"No," she said gently, hoping her low, measured tone would soothe him instead of incite him further. "No, it's not. You know I don't lie, Booth." She smiled. "I wouldn't be any good at it if I even tried."

"So, what, Bones? What are you trying to tell me, here? Is this...what is this?" Booth asked her, some of his earlier desperation returning to his voice.

"Here?" Brennan clarified. "Us, here and now? I think you know the answer to that. What's the only thing that makes sense?"

"A lurid dream? Some dark fantasy of me doing what I've always wanted to do and fuck you into oblivion?" Booth finally told her.

"You tell me, Booth," Brennan said, lifting her firm gaze to meet his.

"_Awww,_ fuck, Bones," Booth finally said, running his hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration, and realizing in that moment, it was too long for the standard military high-and-tight. "You know what, it doesn't matter. Dream-you or real-you, it doesn't matter because neither one of you knows a damn thing about me," he said simply. "You don't know me, you said it yourself. You can't know me, will never know me—"

"I'm a part of you, Booth," Brennan replied. "For better, for worse, that's how it is. I'm a part of you, and I'll always be a part of you."

"As my partner," Booth nodded. "Just partners. You're my partner and that's it—"

"If that were true, then why did this just happen?" she asked, her finger coming up to lazily draw a line along the sweat-damp skin over his sternum and into the flat space between his hard, toned pectoral muscles. "Explain that."

"I...I'm letting you go," Booth said. "I _have _let you go. After this, I'm done with you. I _have _to be—I _have _to be done with you, Bones. I can't go back. If I do, I'll never be free."

She laughed lightly, despite her promise not to make this any worse for him than it already was. "You love me," she said simply.

"No," Booth instantly responded. "Not anymore, not in that way."

"You do," Brennan maintained. "You love me. _You _love _me_."

"No," he breathed, squeezing his eyes shut as if each word she spoke were causing him the same pain as if she physically assaulted him. "No, no, _no_."

Stepping forward to close the distance between them, she gently cupped his face with her hands. Leaning in, Booth could smell her scent—a mixture of sweat, musk from their lovemaking, and the almond and honey bodywash she always used—and, as he smelled it, he wanted to cry. "You can't forget me," she said. "You can't get rid of me. You can't deny the truth of it, Booth—the truth of me, the truth of _us__."_

"I have to," he said, finally opening his eyes. "I have to—and that's all this was about. It was me saying goodbye so I can let you go. So I can move on..."

"You love me."

"I have Hannah now," Booth repeated. "A woman who wants me—"

"You love me."

"A woman who didn't turn down what I was offering when I made the offer, Bones. She grabbed it with both hands, and she's held on tight ever since—"

"You love me."

"And, to give us a chance, I have to let you go. She wants to be with me, and I have to try—I have to give us a chance, a _real _chance—" Booth continued, almost as if he were repeating a well-worn mantra. "I have to—"

"Booth," Brennan said quietly, leaning in and placing her index finger gently on his lips to interrupt his verbal self-flagellation. "Please, just for a second, listen to me, okay?"

He stopped talking and slowly nodded.

"You know how much I love factual information?" Brennan asked, a small smile tugging at the edge of her lips.

Booth again nodded, but he remained quiet.

"Then, trust me. I'm pretty positive about the facts on this one. You love me," Brennan said. Booth opened his mouth to contradict her, but Brennan shook her head and smiled as she refused to move her finger. "No," she maintained. "I still need you to listen to me."

Reluctantly, Booth took a breath, but said nothing as he waited for Brennan to continue.

"Okay, so you know as much as I love facts, the reason I hate psychology is because it rarely makes any sense, right? Facts are never facts where psychology is concerned, and I hate that inconsistency," Brennan told him as she let her finger fall from his lips.

"Right," he said with another nod.

"Well, you know another place where facts are not necessarily facts, Booth? Where down can be up, left can be right, and what you thought one minute isn't necessarily true the next?" Brennan asked him, the secret smile that had been threatening to crack onto her face now almost breaking through completely as she spoke.

Slightly confused, Booth asked, "Bones, what in the hell are you talking about?"

"Are you so certain that when you wake up from this dream that Hannah's going to be the woman you wake up next to in bed? Because, you do know by now that this is a dream, right?" Brennan asked.

"Yeah," Booth said with a nod. "I kinda figured that one out, Bones, when it didn't make any sense for you to come trotting into a U.S. Army camp in the middle of a war zone like it was the diner or some park in D.C."

"Then, when you wake up, because you know you never made it back to your bunk, are you so certain that you're going to wake up next to Hannah?" Brennan inquired of him. "Are you?"

"Of course," Booth said with a firm nod. "Why wouldn't she be? She's who I'm with now, Bones." He looked away, a sour feeling in his stomach as he pulled his sweat-damp T-shirt over his head and wondered what he'd just done. He had never been unfaithful before this one instance, never having once cheated on any woman he'd ever been with—something of which he'd always been quite proud of—_but now..._

"Are you sure about that, Booth?" Brennan asked him again. "Really and truly?"

"Yes," Booth said emphatically. "Who else would it be?"

"The woman you love," Brennan said simply. "The woman you love, have always loved, will always loved."

"I can't love you anymore," Booth said, the misery in his voice quite clear. "I just can't."

"You already do," Brennan smiled. "Can't you just accept that?"

"No," Booth croaked. "If I do that, like I said, I'll never be free, Bones. I'll never be free. You might as well stick me in one of those little clear plastic drawers that you've got in Limbo—"

"Modular Bone Storage," she corrected him with a gentle laugh.

He blinked at her mild correction for a minute and then continued. "Same thing, Bones. Either way, if I do, then I'll be done," Booth told her sadly. "I'll be done, Bones." He felt his eyes burn, tiny tears rimming, and he knew that he couldn't blame the dusty Afghan wind for these tears. He remembered the last time his tears had betrayed him, as he had fallen back against the steps behind the Hoover, staring at the Washington Monument in the distance as his hope of any chance with Brennan vanished in the fading light of that spring evening.

"You really do torment yourself too much," Brennan said, her smile increasing. "You finally get what you've always wanted, and the night you do, your psyche tortures you. I've always thought you might have some sado-masochistic tendencies, but I do believe this entire dream gives it new meaning, Booth."

The sadness that had been on his face turned to confusion as he said, "What in the hell are you talking about, Bones?" He grimaced as he heard the gravity in his voice. She was getting to him—the way she always seemed to get to him. "You're not making any sense. I thought you hated psychology."

"Okay, let me ask you a question," Brennan asked. "How many times have you dreamed about me over the years?"

"Too many to count," Booth said instantly.

"Including the sex dreams?" Brennan replied, a teasing note still present in her voice.

Booth flushed a bit and nodded. He thought of how many times he had snapped awake in the morning, hard as hell and his mind on fire from the vivid dream just had about his partner, and how the only relief he'd found was in the shower, rubbing one out under the pelting stream of warm water before turning the knob to cold and trying to shock himself back to the point that he could work alongside her and observe The Line.

"Okay," Brennan said. "So, you said it yourself earlier...tonight, this dream—why is it different from all those other ones?"

"Because," Booth said slowly. "Because, I know this is the last time I can let myself think of you like this, Bones. This is the last time that I can indulge my fantasies if I'm going to give Hannah, being with her, a fair chance."

"Wrong answer," Brennan laughed with a shake of her head. "That's the wrong answer, Booth. Would you like to try again?"

Her laughter made Booth feel a very distinct flare of anger. He felt the tips of his ears grow hot as he frowned, glaring at her from beneath his heavy, furrowed brow.

"No, it's not," Booth said. "It's not."

"Oh?" Brennan asked. "And, are you so sure about that?"

"I already answered that question, Bones," Booth told her. "So if you're so certain that there's another answer, then just spit it out, for fuck's sake."

Leaning into him, Brennan allowed her body to press against his as she said, "I already did, Booth. I told you. You don't think there's any correlation between the fact that you had the most realistic, most gratifying, most erotic dream you've ever had about me in your life on tonight of all nights?"

Unable to help himself, Booth smirked a bit as he said, "Nothing like being too full of yourself, huh, Bones?"

"I'm just using your words," she told him simply. "Now, answer the question, please."

"This dream _has _been incredible," Booth reluctantly admitted. "But, that's as it should be, since it's the last time—"

"No," Brennan told him. "It's not the last time. Only the first, Booth. Only the first of many. And, you'll see—as soon as you wake up. Wake up, Booth. _Wake __up__—_"

As if she were a mirage in the desert that had begun to fade away, Booth reached out as he saw her disappear. "Bones!"

And, as she smiled at him one last time, that infuriatingly knowing smile of hers, she waved and mouthed the words 'You love me'. As she faded from his view, Booth felt his heart tear as he said, "Oh, God, Bones. I do. God help me, but I do. I do love you. I do—"

As he choked out the last words in a half-sob, the moment he'd been expecting finally claimed him as he started to drift to consciousness. It took him a moment for the disorientation of his waking from so deep a REM sleep to fall away. When he sat up in bed, it was dark, and he felt a warm pressure wrapped around his torso as expected. But, _something _was off. It took him a minute to blink away the haze of the dream and sleep before he realized what it was. It was quieter and cooler than it should've been for Afghanistan at that time of year. Then, as his mind latched onto the disparity, a flood of other sensations crashed over him—the noise of a window AC unit, the lack of the cold feel of metal against his chest where his dog tags usually knocked annoyingly against his St. Christopher medal, the softness of the mattress and bedding on which he was laying, and perhaps most strikingly off all, the mass of female hair draped across his chest was not blonde, but brunette.

To say that he felt bewildered was putting it mildly. _What the fuck's going on? _Booth thought. He shifted in bed, blinking several times as he tried to make sense of everything. As he ran a hand absentmindedly through his hair, he tried to sit up and the comforter fell away. That movement brought a murmurof protest from the warm female wrapped tightly around his torso.

"_Mmmmm_, cold," the voice murmured. "Booth—"

He froze when he heard that voice. _I __know __that __voice__. __Shit__. _He blinked several times as his groggy brain scrambled to make sense of things. _Shit__. __What__'__s __going __on__? __Shit__, __shit__, __shit_—

"Bones?" he whispered, very uncertain even though he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that there was no mistaking _that _voice.

Shifting slightly, the head moved and the hair fell away and a pair of pale eyes slowly opened as a face smiled at him.

"Hi," she said softly.

Booth blinked once, but remained at a loss for what to say as he stared into her happy gaze and only one thought kept circling in his bewildered mind. _What __in __the __hell __is __going __on__?_

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><p><strong>AN2****:**

_Whoa. Dude. What's going on here? _

_Well, you'll find out soon when we post Part III. _

_So, we gave you a little light tingle in this chapter. We hope it was to your liking._ **::smirk::**

_Same drill as last time. Now that Booth has awaken in not two but three different beds, you probably want to know what the hell is going on here. We'd love to tell you, and in fact want to tell you, but you do have to pay the boatman. In this case, pieces of silver are not required (and you don't have to be dead—bonus!). _

_Parts III, IV and V are already written. (And, perhaps this is a cocky thing to say, but they are pretty darn hot and, well, we think they're going to blow your collective minds.)_

_Want more? You simply have to tell me and __**Lesera128**__ what you think of this chapter and this crazy fic so far. _

_Press that little review button and do your thing. _

_Yes, that one—right down there. That's the one._

_Thanks :-)_


	7. 7—Cooking Off Ammo, Pt III

**A Very Bad Idea  
><strong>**By****:** Lesera128 & dharmamonkey  
><strong>Rated<strong>**: **M

**Disclaimer****: **Ummm, nope, we still don't own anything. We have, however, apparently become squatters in the sandbox that we crashed...so, umm...yeah. There we go.

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><p><strong>AN**: _Thanks to all who've read and reviewed so far. We appreciate your support._

_If you've been lurking, come out of the shadows and tell us what you think. Hearing from readers makes us happy, and happy writers write more fic, which gives readers like you more to read. It's a symbiotic relationship. And we mean that in a totally professional, atta-girl/atta-boy kind of way._

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><p><strong>II. Cooking Off Ammo, Part III<strong>

**Pertinent Details on Scenario #2****: **Set in-between seasons 5 and 6, sometime before the end of 5x22: "The Beginning in the End" and the beginning of the episode 6x01: "The Mastodon in the Room."

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><p>As he began to awaken, Booth's grogginess was slowly but steadily falling away as adrenaline pushed him further and further into the land of wakeful reality. He resisted the urge to panic, despite the extreme inclination he was having to, for lack of a better phrase, <em>freak out<em>.

Blinking down at Brennan, watching her with a baffled glint in his eyes, he thought for a moment that he might still be dreaming. But, then he felt the pressure of Brennan's warm, naked skin rub against his, and more importantly, he started to feel a pounding in his head and a sensitivity to light and sound that was in no way a consequence of having woken up in the manner he did_—_at least to his knowledge. He shifted a bit in bed, taking Brennan with him as she mumbled a complaint at his having disturbed her position with his movement.

Oblivious to the way in which Booth's body had tensed when he'd awakened to find the last woman he'd ever expected to be draped over his chest, obviously in a post-coital slumber, Brennan blinked blearily at him. "Where are you going?" she finally asked in a very soft voice that transitioned into the cutest yawn that Booth thought he'd ever seen in his life. "It's too cold," she said, her voice a husky whine.

"_Ummmm—_"

"If you're going to get up, could you bring me some aspirin?" she said with a shy smile as she started to perk up after a few second. "I think the hangover's sort of kicking in—"

At a loss of how to respond, Booth ignored the fact that she was naked, laying on top of him, and in his bed. Instead, he pretended that it was just another simple request from his partner as he finally replied. "Uh, sure, Bones," he said softly. "I, uh—"

In a delayed response, Booth blinked as he realized that Brennan's words seemed to trigger something in his brain. The word 'hangover' seemed to have some relevance to the headache that Booth guessed might mirror his partner's. A wave of grogginess still kept him from figuring out how to make sense of anything, and so Booth was slightly unsure what to do. Blinking several times, he drew in several deep breaths to try to steady himself enough to figure out what in the hell was actually going on.

However, still somewhat oblivious to Booth's confusion, Brennan seemed content to think that his reluctance to move from bed stemmed merely because of with whom he was in bed. Smiling at him again, she shifted slightly herself into a more comfortable angle of access and pressed her naked chest luxuriously over his torso. "You know, hangover or not, I'm very happy this happened, Booth."

She had stopped so that her face was just a few inches from his as she looked at him expectantly.

Unable to help himself, Booth asked, "What?"

"You didn't let me leave last night," Brennan said. "If you'd asked me yesterday where I thought I'd be twenty-four hours from then, I never could've anticipated this as a possibility, but I'm so glad you didn't let me go. I just wish we hadn't necessarily needed all that tequila for it to finally have happened—"

Her words trailed off as Booth's groggy mind honed in on one of the most important words that she'd said to him: _tequila_.

And, as if she had flipped a switch, the flood of images that had come rushing back to him finally started to make sense, almost like when the swirling view through a kaleidoscope slows and the constituent pieces, albeit still jumbled, finally move into focus.

_The night, despite all the happy things to celebrate, seemed to be ending on a sour note. Brennan wasn't happy. It seemed that it wasn't a lack of sleep that fueled her negative outlook, although it would have been a natural consequence of the arduous demands Heather Taffet's trial had placed on the entire Jeffersonian team. _

_No, she wasn't sleepy or tired, per se—but, she was clearly fatigued. She was worn out, drained, and in general, not capable of putting up much of a fight anymore. She didn't know when it'd happened—if there was a single point to which she could refer as the crucial bit of evidence that proved when her transition from an unattached, extremely intelligent and rational woman who always knew that she could rely on herself to do what needed to be done to someone else had actually happened. She'd seemed to become another woman entirely who wasn't any of those things anymore. She just simply—well, she wasn't._

_Brennan's thoughts swirled as she tried to think about how she'd become this weak individual for a few self-indulgent seconds. However, they quickly trailed off as she refocused on the worried look on her partner's face, him watching her very carefully with his warm brown eyes full of concern. When Booth continued to insist that it was an evening for joy and happiness—because of the news of the prosecution's victory over Taffet and the revelation about Hodgins' marriage to Angela—she still remained hesitant to concede his point. For a few seconds, as Brennan stared at him, and she remembered the day that Taffet had almost taken him from her. She thought—and not for the first, fifth, or even hundredth time—how horribly things could've gone if she'd only been a few minutes later that day that Taffet had kidnapped Booth, entombed him in the decommissioned naval vessel, and left him never to be found again._

_"You almost died, Booth," Brennan said, some of the passionate pain she kept tightly coiled inside her creeping into her voice, despite her best efforts to hide it. Biting her lip, Brennan insisted, "That can happen again."_

_Booth stared at Brennan for a moment, but he remained quiet as he tried to figure out the most appropriate words to say to her. He knew that Brennan was hiding something, but he didn't want to push too hard if she'd willing tell him herself._

_A beat of time passed, and then, as Brennan spoke, there it finally was._

_"What if, next time, I can't get to you?" she asked._

It's not your fault, _Booth wanted to tell her. Now that the blinders had been removed, he could see the fear and guilt eating at Brennan, despite her best efforts to hide it_. You aren't responsible for what she did to me, Bones. Why...why are you trying to take the blame? It wasn't your fault, not at all. _Instead, all Booth could really give Brennan was a firm reassurance that her fears were unfounded. "It's not going to happen again," he told her confidently._

_Looking at Booth, Brennan felt the familiar knot of fear tighten in her stomach as she thought of how she'd almost lost Booth to Taffet's machinations. She blamed herself for the fact that Booth had been kidnapped because of the investigation into her kidnapping two and a half years earlier and the missing evidence that Hodgins had stolen in his quest to find the Gravedigger's identity. Deep down, Brennan felt that she'd gotten lucky they day the helicopter had gone out into the Chesapeake, and she'd welcomed Booth into her waiting arms. But, she still feared what would happen the next time, the next time that something bad happened to him because of her, and she believed herself too weak to save him because of how she'd changed. Knowing that she could no longer take that chance, Brennan started to come to a decision about how things needed to change in both her life and Booth's_—_for both their sakes._

_"I envy your ability to substitute optimism for reality," Brennan finally managed to say to Booth in response to his earlier optimistic comments._

_Knowing that he was quickly losing a critical battle with Brennan, Booth suddenly switched tactics. Instead of a blatant approach, one that tried to show her that she was wrong because she wasn't thinking about the whole thing in the right way, he hoped a more subtle suggestion might work to enable Brennan to come to the same conclusion herself._

_"You know what? Maybe you just need to take some time off," Booth said with a light-hearted nod. "Go to a beach. Lay in the sun—" he continued happily to embroider the picturesque tale. He hoped mental images of the warm sun and clear blue waters and ocean breeze might tempt her and perhaps might spark soemthing that would appeal to the exhaustion he sensed in Brennan_. Come on, Bones. Say 'yes', and I'll have us on the first plane to whatever Caribbean island you want. Name it. You, me, your bikini, my swim trunks, some sunscreen, and a bottle of tequila to make all the bad things go away for a while. What do ya say? Just give me something—please, Bones. Work with me here. Just give me something to work with,_ Booth silently pleaded. However, when he saw the look on her face, he knew his idea was falling on deaf ears_. She's making a decision about something, _Booth suddenly realized. _She's making a choice about something, right now. And, she's making the choice because she's scared. She's making up her mind to do what she always does when she gets scared, and—oh, God. She's going to run again, isn't she? God, no—

_Booth felt his heart fall into his stomach as Brennan's next words seemed to ominously confirm his fears. "I might need more than a little time," she told him slowly, in a measured tone that belied the seriousness of the extent of the change that her words insinuated._

_Shaking his head, Booth went on the defensive, trying to implement his standard protocol for damage control where Brennan was concerned when she got scared. "Don't...don't make any decisions about your future right now," he advised her, his voice stumbling over the first few words, as he said only what he could say, but not everything he needed to tell her._

_"I'm just saying—" Brennan began, about to defend the choice she realized she'd just made in that moment, as she suddenly knew that the only way she could ever really let Booth go and not self-destruct in the process was to try to rediscover the woman she'd once been—the woman she'd been before she'd ever met him and he'd nicknamed her 'Bones.'_

_Her tone making him even more resolute in his efforts to proactively counter Brennan's impending flight, Booth interrupted her, as he said with firm wave of his hands, "You know when a dentist gives you anesthetic and tells you not to operate any heavy machinery or make any important decisions within 24 hours?"_

_Brennan stared at him for a minute and then she slowly nodded._

_Booth, feeling a small shred of hope at her tacit agreement, continued. "Alright, this case was bigger than a root canal—" Stalling for time, his voice trailed off as he struggled for something to say to her that would stop her from doing it was she was making her mind up to do. Then, in a flash of inspired brilliance, he knew the best way to counteract whatever it was that Brennan thought she'd be doing was to turn off her brain._ And, the best way to turn off Bones' brain is... alcohol, _Booth thought with a wry grin, his brain jumping back to another time and place five years before when he'd used alcohol as a crutch that night to help him in getting her to do something that he didn't really want to do in firing her. "Come on, let's just go back inside and have one more drink."_

_Staring at him, quite tempted, Brennan seemed to be at war with herself. Knowing that if she went back inside the bar with him that Booth would most likely be able to get her fears out of her, she knew the right thing_—_the __safe__ thing to do was to just _was_ to say goodnight, hail a cab, and go home—away from him...away from Booth. Otherwise, she feared what he might be able to get her to do if he really tried, and what events might ensue as a consequence_—

_"Come on," Booth tempted her again, shooting her a smile that he knew usually melted her stubbornness. "Just one." He crinkled his brow and gave her that innocent-eyed look that he'd used with her a hundred times before to great effect_. _ He reached out, unable to help himself as he grabbed her hand and lightly pulled her back towards the bar._

_Brennan felt a small static charge shock her at Booth's touch, and she stopped, caught off guard by the sensation. "You just shocked me," she said in disbelief as she looked up at him._

_"Whatever I have to do, Bones," Booth said, not letting her hand go, although there was clearly an amused tone lurking just at the edge of his voice. "Come on, now. One more drink, huh?"_

_"I really shouldn't," Brennan began to protest again. "I—"_

_Tightening his hold on her hand, Booth squeezed it and said, "Please?" Holding her hand tightly in his grasp, his dark brown eyes beseeching her, he asked, "Please? Don't go. Not yet. Everyone else is gone, so, please. Don't leave me—don't leave me all by myself, huh?"_

_Those specific words hit a particularly vulnerable spot in Brennan's emotional armor, and she flushed at how unfair his appeal to her actually was. _

_"Please, Bones?" he asked again, softening his tone once more, and staring at her expectantly, still not having released her hand._

_Brennan, feeling her heart skip a beat, knew in that moment, that her resolve had crumbled. She'd lost, and he'd won._

_"Okay," Brennan said, after indulging herself by letting her look into his eyes for a few more seconds. Then, with a light nod, she added, "Okay, I'll stay."_

_Booth grinned at her again, this time pulling her once more towards the bar's entrance, and Brennan allowed herself to be pulled toward him._

_"But, just one drink, Booth," she said, setting the terms of her conditional surrender. "Just one," she repeated, even though both of them knew that she really didn't mean it._

_"Sure," Booth said, giving her a knowing look. "Just as long as you know that since I'm buying, it's my call what we're drinking, Bones."_

_A mock half-frown coming over her face, Brennan cringed as she immediately knew what those words meant. With Booth, those words only meant one thing. "Oh, no, not—"_

_"Tequila," Booth said with a happy nod. "Definitely tequila, Bones."_

_"Oh, damn—"_

As the image of the previous night fell away, Booth lay in bed, dazed and feeling slightly faint as he propped his head on his hand and looked into Brennan's pale eyes. For her part, she didn't seem to notice as she again shifted in bed slightly, hooking her left leg slightly between Booth's. "Of course, if you don't really have to get up, I can think of a couple of ways that I might be able to reward you for staying here in bed. I might get too cold if you leave."

Booth, still a bit out of sorts, was uncertain how to respond to Brennan's overtures since he wasn't quite certain what had exactly happened between them and what hadn't. _I'm not certain what's real and what's not_, he thought to himself. _God, what happened?_

Trying to stall for time again, Booth vaguely stared at her with a nod. "_Ummm_...what are you trying to say here, Bones?" he asked, wiggling his hips against the sweat-creased sheet. "I mean, uh_—_"

Sensing his hesitation, Brennan frowned slightly, some of her self-confidence evaporating in light of his uncertainty. Looking up at him, she blinked a few times as she said in a more serious tone of voice, "I-I...I was attempting to be alluring, Booth." She paused, biting her lip as she tilted her head and looked up at him as her voice became a bit softer still when she spoke once more. _He's regretting what we did, _Brennan thought instantly. _I know it. I just know it_— "You aren't...you aren't regretting what we did, are you?" she finally asked very timidly.

"No," he blurted. "No, Bones."

"I mean, I know this was most likely not what either of us anticipated occurring last night when you asked me to stay just for one more drink—" Brennan stopped as she smiled at the memory of the offer Booth had made to her outside of the Founding Fathers after they'd had not just one more drink, but several. "However, you made quite a persuasive argument, as I recall—" She stopped and smiled as she reflected on his pleas that had melted her resolve. However, afraid that it might've been a mere by-product of stress relief for Booth in the wake of Taffet's trial, Brennan knew she needed clarification to see just how big a mistake they'd possibly made. Tilting her head a bit as she spoke, Brennan said, "I know that I was in a very tenuous place last night, Booth. So—" She took a large breath to steel her fortitude and then quickly said, "If there's any...any chance that what happened between us occurred just because of the stress of the trial with Taffet and the tequila...well, I'll understand. I just need you to tell me that now so I can know how I need to rectify things between us—"

"Wait," Booth said. "Just wait a second there, Bones." He narrowed his eyes, which were still a bit blurry from sleep. "This—"

He paused, struggling to remember exactly what had happened after they returned to his apartment, but the fact they'd ended up waking up in each other's arms naked gave him a pretty good general idea. The images were hazy and jumbled, but the more awake he became, he remembered the way she'd tasted, and the way she'd felt, and the motion of moving against her, into her, as her back was against the wall—_or was it? _The image of pale wood, perhaps pine, flashed before his eyes, and he shook his head. His walls were plastered and white. _Wait. What exactly—?_

"Bones," he said. "This—what happened—wasn't just because of Taffet or the tequila. You know that, right?"

"I know that, Booth," she nodded slowly. "I suppose my question is...given your behavior in the last few minutes—is that true for you as well?"

Booth swallowed and, for a moment, nibbled the inside of his lip. He felt a swirl of emotions in that moment—joy at being with her after waking up alone so many mornings having dreamt of her at night, and yet a certain confused fear. _Is this real, this thing between us? _he wondered. _Or is the only thing that is real is what we did last night?_

"Wait," he said, rolling onto his side to face her, propping his head on his hand. "It's just—well, I don't know."

"Don't know what, Booth?" Brennan said, fighting very hard to keep the panic that had roared in the pit of her stomach at bay, not allowing it to take hold of her heart and her mind.

He sighed and smiled uncomfortably. "I—well, I guess I'm just...what are we doing here, Bones? I mean, are we going to give this thing a shot here, or—?" He glanced up at the ceiling, as if the words he was searching for would be inscribed there. "Because if we're not—if this is just some kind of, you know, casual thing, then I can't—" He took a deep breath. "I—do you know what I'm saying here, Bones?"

Brennan reached out and with feathery touch caressed his stubbled cheek with the back of her hand. "Booth," she began softly. "When you asked me to stay with you last night, I know that we were both somewhat intoxicated, but I can assure you I was in complete control of my faculties."

Staring at her for a minute, Booth blinked, trying to navigate his way through a jumbled mixture of images, not quite certain what was real and what wasn't. At last, still unsure which was which, he could only offer a vague statement that pained him given how much truth and vulnerability he saw staring back at him from Brennan's eyes. "I know that, Bones."

Tilting her head, she nodded at him and said, "Do you, Booth?" She stopped and then said quietly, "I-I...I knew _exactly _what I was doing last night, Booth." Pausing, Brennan remembered how tipsy the pair of them had been when last call had sounded, how they'd laughed and talked through it, and then had been gently shooed out into the street by a tired waitstaff that were more than ready for the night to end so they could clean up and go home to sleep before starting another long series of shifts on the following day. When they had exited the Founding Fathers, a single cab had awaited the pair, and as she'd contemplated leaving Booth once more on the sidewalk, Brennan had known even through her buzz that she was making more than one kind of choice when she got into the cab with her partner. Looking up at him, she said, "When it was time to go home last night, do you remember what you did when I moved to get into the cab?"

Booth glanced at her hand, and a clear image of him grabbing it played in his mind. "I didn't want you to go," he said quietly.

"And, I didn't want to go," Brennan confirmed with a nod. "God, Booth, I was so happy when you stopped me from getting into the cab that second time...almost as much as I had been the first time. And, so, when you asked me to stay with you, I thought you understood...I wasn't just saying yes to going to bed with you—although I had hoped that opportunity for us to have sex was implied in your offer as well." She grinned at him for a minute and then looked away as she sighed heavily as she said, "You know, there was—is, rather, there is a dig in Indonesia that I was contacted about—normally, I get at least a dozen of these solicitations a month, if not more. I'd usually just send my casual regrets, but this one—with everything that's been going on with Taffet's trial, and us, and how things have been making me feel over the last few weeks, I...I'd been thinking of going—"

Booth opened his mouth to speak, unable to help himself as he interrupted Brennan. "But you turned 'em down, didn't you?" he asked, his voice trembling a bit at the thought of her leaving him and his dream of Afghanistan partially becoming reality.

"Not yet," Brennan said with a shake of her head. "I haven't given my official response yet. I was going to send an email in the morning, uhhh, _this_ morning, actually, about it—"

"And, you're not going, right?" Booth asked, his tone becoming firm as he held her gaze as he interrupted her. "Right?" he repeated, hopeful that she couldn't pick up on the bit of desperation that he was fairly certain had crept into his voice.

"Of course," Brennan said, blinking at him several times in confusion as she shook her head. "Booth, how could you even think I'd think about leaving now...leaving _you_ after what just happened?" Shaking her head, a bit of the hurt that she'd been trying to keep under control finally found its way into her voice. "I wouldn't do that because...things have changed for us—at least, they have for me—in an important way, mind you...a very important way, Booth. I couldn't possibly think of leaving now, not with everything that's happened. So, of course, I'm not going. I'm going to decline the offer, I promise—"

Booth exhaled a deep breath as he looked at her with the overwhelming sense of relief clear in his eyes. "Oh, God. Good. That's good, Bones. I-I—I can't even tell you how good that is. I'm so glad you didn't go, aren't going, rather—and, I'm still here, too. You know that, right? I'm...I'm not going anywhere."

"Where would you possibly go, Booth?" Brennan asked. "Washington is your home. Why would you leave it?"

The haziness of the Army encampment from his dream flashed in his mind. "Oh, I don't know, Bones. Maybe...I guess if I were stupid I might've done something like re-enlisting in the Army."

"You've been thinking about re-enlisting?" Brennan said so softly, the shock clear on her face. "I didn't even know that you were considering that as an option, Booth—"

"I'm not," Booth said with a self-conscious blink. "I'm not, Bones. I'm not going anywhere. I swear I'm not, I just—"

"What, Booth?" Brennan asked, sensing that he was keeping something from her. "What is it?"

Nodding at her, he held her gaze as he said quickly, almost as if he were tearing a band-aid off, "It's just that...I'm just not sure, Bones, if we're on the same page here...you know?" He blinked at her several times, still not quite certain what he was struggling to ask her as he said, "Are we?"

"When you asked me to stay with you last night," Brennan continued slowly, "I thought you understood, if I stayed...I wasn't just staying the night, Booth. You do know that it was more than that, right? When I agreed, I...I never would've gotten into that cab with you and gone home with you if it wasn't because I was agreeing to more than just a one-night stand. I've felt..._so _empty these past couple of months—you have no idea. But, I was under the impression that when I explained that all to you, and you said I didn't have to feel that way, because of you and me and us...well, I thought—" Her voice trailed off until, after a few seconds, she struggled to share her thoughts. "I'm still trying to figure out how verbalize these feelings I have, but one thing I do know is that after everything that's happened, I can't keep on with how things have been between us. I need—I need to...I need you to help me..." Her voice trailed off again as she struggled to explain herself to him. At last, knowing she wasn't being coherent, she shook her head and sighed in frustration. "I'm sorry. I'm not explaining myself very well."

"No, Bones," he said gently. "You are. It's just—maybe I'm not explaining _myself_ very well."

"I don't understand what you're trying to tell me," Brennan said. She stopped and sat up a little, distancing herself a few inches from Booth, her body tensing as she felt the doubt and hesitation that had been creeping into her mind for several moments begin to set up a permanent camp in her brain. "There's no need to struggle to verbalize things if you're having difficulty because you want to spare my feelings. I just thought we'd both agreed that when I stayed last night, it was with the understanding that...the void I've been feeling, the emptiness, and the unfulfillment? You said—I thought that we agreed that you and me..."

"Bones," he said, his voice low and vaguely pleading. "I'm not trying to spare your feelings. Look, this—this case _was _harder than all the others, Bones, not just on you, but on me, too. I almost lost you, too. If there was any doubt, any question at all in my mind that there was a space, a hole in my life, that you filled up, all of those doubts were laid to rest the day that you..." Booth paused and sucked in a long, deep breath. He remembered every bit of that day, every painful, heart-wrenching moment, as if it were yesterday. "The day that you were taken, and I didn't know if I would ever see you alive again, Bones, I could feel that hole opening up in my life again, and I didn't want to lose you. I knew then, I think, that you—" He forced a smile as he tried to suppress the memories of her kidnapping. "That's when I knew, Bones, that you filled up those empty spaces in my life. Empty spaces I didn't even realize were there."

"I'm not certain what you're trying to tell me, Booth," Brennan replied with an uncertain shake of her head. "I don't understand—"

Booth reached over with his free hand and stroked his index finger along the straight line of her jaw and thumbed her chin. "Bones," he said quietly. "You make my life better than—well, a hundred times better than it was before you were in it. My life is fuller with you in it, you know, in ways I didn't even know possible. I..." He cupped her cheek lightly with his hand as he summoned the courage to speak the words he knew he had to say. "Look, Bones," he said, a certain unease creeping into his toothy smile. "I...I love you, Bones." He swallowed hard, then continued. "I _love _you. I've—I've loved you for a long time now. And—" He raised his eyebrows expectantly, hoping that his words wouldn't send her running. "I just don't want—if you don't feel that way about me, Bones, I—look, I just can't do this unless you're willing to jump in with me. Feet first, Bones. All in, you know."

"You know I have a tremendous difficulty in identifying and properly labeling my emotional responses, correct, Booth?" Brennan asked, her voice still quiet as she met his gaze.

"Yes," he admitted with a nod. "But, Bones—"

"Booth," she interrupted him softly.

"Bones—"

"No," Brennan said, shaking her head. "I need to say this, please."

"Okay," he nodded. "Go ahead."

"I know...I know I feel something for you," Brennan began. "Beyond anything I've ever felt before...but, I...I've never been in love before, so I don't know if I can accurately quantify my emotional response as such. All I can do is what I've offered so far...act in the way I promised. You asked me to stay, so I stayed. And, moreover, I want to stay, I want to be with you, I want...I want to share things with you, and have you share things with me, and hope that maybe—maybe when it's all said and done the cumulative effect is positive and not negative."

Booth chuckled quietly at hearing his partner struggle so earnestly to wrap her rational, empirical mind around what he knew was a baffling swirl of emotions for her. He felt his heart clench a little at seeing how hard she was trying to figure it all out. For a moment, he remembered that evening at _La Coupole_. '_She doesn't love me,' he'd told Gordon Gordon. 'I would know if she loved me.' _Booth felt a warmth spread through his chest at the realization, in that moment, finally, after all that time, he could finally admit the miraculous fact that Brennan did love him—even if she couldn't yet say the words. _She loves me. She __loves__ me. She really loves me._

"I know, Bones," he said softly, a toothy grin breaking across his face. "I know that."

"Do you, Booth?" Brennan asked, fear still clearly evident in her voice. "Do you, honestly and truly?"

"Oh, yeah, Bones," Booth nodded. "Definitely." He stopped and smiled at her as he said, "Do you know, Bones, that you're always the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning and the last thing I think about before I fall asleep? Do you know that my heart races a little when I see your name come up on my phone, or when I see you walk into a room?" He grinned with a slight shrug. "I can't quantify any of that, Bones. You know, it's not like there's a formula that you can use to figure out if you're in love, or to measure it on a graph or something. But the way you make me feel, Bones, well—that's love."

She stopped for a minute, considered his words, and then nodded at him. "Given the fact that you have much more experience in this area than I do, I'll have to take your word of expertise in this matter, but...if I can't verbalize that right now... is that a deal breaker for you, Booth?" She looked at him, her eyes shining as she asked the question she knew they both needed the answer to in that moment. "Or, for right now, is me being here with you, here and now, like this— is my promise that I want to stay with you and not leave...for now, is that enough?"

"Enough?" Booth shook his head and laughed. "Oh, man, Bones—that's not a deal-breaker." Smiling a huge grin at her, Booth said, "Knowing that you want to be with me? That's enough. More than enough. That's all I've ever wanted, really." He lifted his hand and stroked the smooth hair along the edge of her forehead with his fingers. "Hey, can I tell you something?"

"I would hope that you know that I've always favored forthrightness between us, Booth," Brennan said tentatively.

"Yeah," he said with a light chuckle. "I do, Bones. I know that." He paused for a minute and then said, "You know, Bones, you're right. I _have _loved before, but—well, maybe this seems strange to you, but I've never loved anyone the way I love you. I've never felt about anyone the way I feel about you." He paused, smiling at her as he tucked another stray strand of her auburn hair behind her ear. "The truth is, Bones, is that I never thought I'd ever feel about someone the way I feel about you. I never thought I'd find someone who—well, who fills up my life the way you do. And, for a long time, I never thought I'd be able to have the kind of love I wanted to have. But—" He shrugged again with a laugh. "Just to be here, with you, and to hear you say you want to be here with me? God, Bones—you have no idea how happy that makes me—no idea, none whatsoever."

"And, you're certain that's not just the tequila hangover talking, Booth?" she asked, her eyes trying to make sense of everything he'd just told her. After a few seconds, seemingly content with his explanation, she relaxed a bit as some of her earlier bravado returned, and she smiled at him. "Because, I have to tell you, you've already gotten laid once, and if you want to have another go, such romantic sentiments are hardly necessary to make me more amenable to your suggestion—"

"Come on, Bones." Booth frowned, feeling the air let out of his balloon a little at her comment. "You seriously think I would say what I just said just to have sex with you?" he asked, his voice pinched with hurt. "God, Bones—"

She stared at him, her face completely devoid of emotion, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling but unable to hide the laughter in her eyes. "Well, Booth, I've been told I'm quite extraordinary in bed as a sexual partner, a fact to which I believe you can now attest, so you can hardly expect me to wonder—"

_Oh, man_—_she's gotten better at this, _he suddenly realized as he started to notice the teasing shine that had come into her gaze. He briefly wondered what kind of trouble he was in now that Temperance Brennan seemed to have mastered the art of sarcasm.

"Well," he began, his eyebrow arched in mock skepticism to match her gentle teasing of him. "You _are _pretty good, Bones—but you gotta to admit, I'm not too bad myself. I think you'd want another go with me, even if I didn't lay my heart bare with weighty confessions of emotional—" He shook his head, then laughed in spite of himself, no longer able to keep up the facade. Reaching out to pull her closer to him, he chuckled, "Oh, fuck it. Who am I kidding? Come 'ere, you."

She rolled towards him as he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her, his mouth covering hers as he felt her tongue glide across his lips to meet his own. Their mouths grasped hungrily at one another for several long moments before he pulled away, gasping for breath.

When they parted, Booth rested his forehead against hers in a touchingly tender gesture. The passion of their position made Brennan a bit hesitant, and she was uncertain what to do next. After several seconds, when he still hadn't moved at all, she tried to encourage him to give her a hint as to how to proceed by moving her head slightly and kissing his rough cheek. She felt him tense slightly, and reading his body language, she became even more confused.

"What?" she asked softly. Somewhat self-consciously, she continued to hold the sheet tightly against her chest. "What is it?"

Booth was quiet for several seconds and then he chuckled quietly. His soft laugh was incongruous with how Brennan perceived his mood given what she'd read in his body language. "It's nothing, Bones."

"The hesitation I can read implied in your body language would seem to say otherwise, Booth," Brennan replied honestly.

Sighing slightly, as he tried to pick his way through the hodgepodge of images in his brain as he tried to distinguish was a dream, and what, in fact, had been reality. "Okay," he began slightly, hoping that if he began to pick his way through the images verbally it might help. "You know when you were going to leave last night?"

"Yes?" she confirmed.

"And, we went inside for one last drink," Booth continued.

"Tequila," Brennan nodded. "You insisted that we each do a tequila shot."

"Yeah," he grinned at her sheepishly. "I was getting desperate."

"About what?" she asked curiously.

"I was afraid you were going to do something stupid unless I turned off your brain for a little while," Booth remembered. "Tequila seemed like the best option available."

"One tequila shot I wouldn't have minded," Brennan murmured with a small frown as she felt the annoying pang of her headache reassert itself as she acknowledged its presence once more. "It was the five after it that I take umbrage with—"

"Well," he laughed. "It wasn't my fault that the bartender kept re-pouring before we could ask him to bring the check."

Brennan's eyes narrowed at him suspiciously. "Of course it wasn't—as you say, I'm sure."

"What?" Booth said, a bit defensively as he recalled how he'd told their regular bartender never to let their glasses stay empty for longer than a minute if he wanted to score a _huge _tip. "You don't believe me, Bones?"

"Well, you can hardly blame me for finding it somewhat hard to believe knowing you as I do Booth," she chuckled.

"Hey," Booth protested, rolling his head to the side as he smiled at the cloudy memory. "I'm completely innocent. I swear."

"It's very coincidental, nonetheless," Brennan said with a slight frown and a trace of mild rebuke in her voice as she complained slightly. "And, now I have the bad hangover to prove it."

"_Awwww,_" he chuckled again. "Poor Bones." He playfully pinched her shoulder. "It's not like you're the only one, FYI—"

"Yes, well, seeing as how you seem reluctant to find an alternative way to mitigate said hangover by us having sex," Brennan said, pouting slightly, "perhaps you could get me that aspirin, after all?" She arched a suggestive eyebrow. "Even though I'm quite certain my throbbing headache could be ameliorated by application of something else that's throbbing. Some might consider it a form of homeopathic medicine—"

"Now, wait a minute," Booth replied, his still-hazy mind slow to catch up with the galloping pace of Brennan's dry wit this early in the morning, particularly in lieu of what had transpired between the pair in the past few hours. "Who said I didn't want to have sex?"

"I've tried coming on to you, so to speak, twice in the past fifteen minutes to initiate another sexual encounter," she said with a frown. "You've hesitated each time."

"And, I was trying to explain that to you, Bones," he said, his voice losing a bit of its playfulness.

"Yes?" she prompted him.

Booth held her gaze for a minute and then said, "Okay. Well, it's just—last night...it's kinda hard for me to tell what actually happened and what didn't—"

"You blacked out?" Brennan asked, the concern in her voice increasing as she straightened slightly in bed. "Because, if that's the case, it's greatly disconcerting to me, Booth. Aside from the fact that it would be a mild blow to my sexual ego—"

Leaning forward, Booth quickly interrupted her with a kiss. After several seconds, her stiff lips began to soften, and she'd just began to respond when he pulled away. She gave a small sigh as they parted, and he nodded at her as he said, "You already told me you were amazing, remember?"

"Yes," she said. "But, apparently not enough for you to remember that I—what's the phrase that you like to use—'rocked your world?'"

"I'm sure you did," he deadpanned. He then gave her a small grin as he said, "I didn't black out, Bones. I remember everything...it's just, well, a bit jumbled." He stopped and said, "Last night, afterwards, I think—no, I know I had this dream—"

"Yes," Brennan interrupted him. "You were quite restless last night, after we—" Her mouth parted in a lascivious grin. "You were shifting in bed for quite some time and clenching your fists as you mumbled." She paused and then added, "I thought it might be a nightmare, but I was a bit too out of it to really pay much attention because you eventually settled down."

"I did dream," Booth said. "It was this really crazy dream. You were in it...and—well, the thing is, Bones...I'm not sure which part of what I remember is from that dream and what really happened..."

"Why?" Brennan asked, her curiosity piqued. "How could what we did last night be conflated with a dream unless—" She stopped and then smiled a Cheshire cat grin as she said, "Were you having a sex dream about me, Booth?"

He glanced away as he blushed. "Well, _uhhhh,_" he murmured. "Well—"

"Oh, come on, Booth," she laughed gently. "After what we did last night, there's really nothing that you can tell me that you really can feel embarrassed about, right?"

He took a deep breath as he stared into space, trying to tease out dream-memories from real ones. "It's kind of, well, I don't know—"

"Tell me about your dream," she said, tracing her index finger along the curve of his deltoid and down the inside of his elbow. "I promise not to judge," she added, pausing as her finger slid over the bulging veins on the underside of his forearm. "I swear."

"Okay," Booth said, a distinct reluctance in his voice. He pursed his lips and shrugged.

"So," he began. "I was in Afghanistan, in the Army. In my dream, I'd accepted their offer of going back in with the promotion to Sergeant Major." He nibbled at the inside of his lip. "So I'm there, right? And it's miserable, absolutely miserable. It's hot, so hot that you're covered in sweat all the time. There's no relief. There's a wind, but it's choked full of sand and gets sand in everything—in your hair, in your ears, in your eyelashes, in between your teeth—freakin' everywhere. It's nasty. So I'm there, and I'm absolutely miserable. Just hating life. I'm sick of the war, and sick of the Army, and I'm going nuts, so I walk out of the barracks to try and find a quiet place where I can just be by myself. And everywhere I go—"

"Booth?"

He looked over at her, slightly put of kilter by her interruption. "Yeah, Bones?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt," she explained. He raised his eyebrows but nodded at her to continue. "But, this is how the dream began? You just suddenly found yourself in the middle of a war zone walking around? There was no introduction, no type of prelude of any kind that set the scene, so to speak?" she asked. She saw his cheek twitch as he heard her question, and she knew she had him.

"Well," Booth replied, his voice uneasy as he stared at her, his brow furrowed slightly in concern. "You promise you won't be mad?"

Brennan looked at him curiously. "Putting aside the fact that dogs get mad and people get angry?"

"What?" Booth asked instantaneously, even further befuddled by his partner's obscure grammatical reference.

"I won't get upset," she nodded, deciding to cut Booth a break since his confusion made him seem even more adorable than he already was to her in that moment. "I promise."

"Okay, _um, _so—yeah, _um. _Well, in the dream, I was in bed...with a woman," Booth began to explain, although the nervousness that he felt was quite clear in his voice.

"You say that like you're surprised that you were in bed with a woman in your dream," Brennan began, her interest increasing since she hadn't expected Booth to make _that_ type of confession. "Did you have a dream about having sex with another man, Booth? Because, Alfred Kinsey postulated that biologically it's quite common for humans to have some latent attraction to the same sex even if they consider themselves to be holistically heterosexual."

_Oh, God, _he thought. _She's shameless. She almost sounds like that idea doesn't bother her. Wait a minute. What?_

"No," he blurted. "I wasn't surprised that I was in bed with a woman, Bones." Booth sighed. _God, she's not gonna make this easy for me. _"I wasn't expecting to have a dream about a dude. That's okay for other people, but I've just never—"

"Then, what?" Brennan asked, interrupting him. "What was it?"

"Well..." he hesitated again. _How in the hell do I even start to tell her this stuff? And, if I can't tell the easy stuff, how in the hell am I gonna be able to tell her what comes after? Fuck. This was not a good idea, __such__ a not good idea._

Brennan watched Booth for several seconds, studying his tense posture and body language. Reaching out her hand to him to reassure him, she said, "Your hesitation implies discomfort about something, Booth. What is it?"

She looked at him, her eyes calm and comforting, and finally Booth made his decision. _Fine. Fuck it. She asked. I can tell her. After everything that's already happened between us, after I've already told her the important stuff, this isn't that big a deal. I finally told her I loved her after almost six years, so I can tell her about one, weird and completely random dream_—

"I'm trying to tell you, Bones. I was in bed...with a woman—"

"Yes. You've said that." Brennan nodded, clearly expecting him to say something more impressive. "And?" she prompted him expectantly.

"Bones..." He winced as he looked at her—stared, really—as if he could mentally convey his thoughts to her without the torture of having to verbalize them.

Brennan watched for a few seconds as he visually pleaded with her to understand. Taking into account Booth's personality, and what she knew of the situation, it only took her a moment to grasp some of the reasons as to why her partner was so uncomfortable. "Oh, wait. Is your discomfort about recounting the contents of the dream because of the identity of the woman?"

At her words, Booth slowly exhaled the breath he'd been holding. _Oh, thank God. _"Well, yeah, kinda—"

"So, you were in bed with a woman, but it wasn't me?" she asked, her lips pursed expectantly.

"Well...no," he said, his eyebrows raised in an expression of caution.

"No, you weren't in bed with another woman that wasn't me?" Brennan clarified, a slight edge of frustration creeping into her voice as she tried to understand what he was telling her.

"Yes—I mean, no," Booth stammered. "I mean, look..." He looked up and away, unwilling to make eye contact as he gathered his focus. "Fuck, Bones. I was in bed with another woman besides you. We clear now?"

"Okay," she said evenly. "Continue."

"Alright, umm, so I'm in bed with this woman, and, uhh, she—well, we'd just had sex. And I'm laying there, and she's fallen asleep against my chest, and I'm just thinking about stuff, and—"

"So, wait," Brennan interjected. Her brow was crinkled in confusion. "I'm sorry to interrupt again, but I'm not sure I understand where you're going with this, and I want to make certain that I do—this sexual encounter that kicked off your dream...were you in Afghanistan when it happened?"

Booth looked up at the ceiling for a moment and closed one eye as he tried to sift through the hazy details of the beginning of the dream. "I think so, but I'm not really sure," he said. Bringing his eyes back to hers, he repeated, "I think so."

"Okay," she said with a nod. "Go on."

"Right," he said with an awkward chuckle and a shrug. "Okay, so then, in the dream, I fall asleep afterwards, and she's there with me. But, later I think I wake up, and I'm sweaty as hell, you know—that kind of sweaty where you're so uncomfortable that your skin itches?"

"Okay, I got it, Booth," Brennan said impatiently. "You were perspiring. Then what?"

"Heh, alright," he grumbled. "Patience, Bones. Jeez." He shot her a playful glare and sighed.

"Booth," she said, her pale gray eyes raking over his well-toned arms, shoulders and chest and then down to where the bedsheet draped over his hip. " I still don't understand why you're embarrassed about this dream aside from the fact that you think I'd take offense at you having intercourse with another woman."

"Alright already," he groaned. "I'm getting to that part." He took a deep breath and continued recounting his dream. "Okay, so anyway, I wake up in my barracks bunk, and the first thing I realize, aside from how sweaty I am, is that there's this other soldier in there, and he's blasting this really annoying song on his iPod through this really crappy set of speakers."

"What song was it?" she asked.

"You probably don't know it," he said with a wave of his hand.

"You might be surprised," Brennan said with a crooked grin. "You know I can be very surprising, so try me, Booth."

Booth smiled. _Yeah, _he agreed silently. _You can be very surprising_—_but, usually in a good way. _

"Yeah," he said. "The song was from this hard rock/grunge band called Hoobastank—"

"Oh, I've heard of them before," she said casually.

"Really?" Booth blurted out, unable to conceal his surprise.

"Yes," Brennan said with a smile. "The Hupa tribe is one of the first native tribes that there's archaeological evidence for as far as early settlement goes in the Hoopa Valley in California—"

"Not 'Hupa', Bones," he corrected her with a wry grin. "'Hooba'...—"

"Hooba what?"

"Hoobastank," he said "But that's not important. Anyway, so he's blasting this song, and the lyrics and the really aggro beat and guitar line—"

"Aggro?" Brennan gave him the _I don't know what that means _look that he'd seen countless times before and which always made him smile a little. She almost never followed up that kind of look or the accompanying statement with "I really don't care." She was always interested in learning, and he her never-ending, boundless curiosity was one of the first things about her he fell in love with.

"Aggro, Bones. Aggressive, you know." He smiled as her crinkled brow smoothed as understanding washed over her. "Anyway, so the lyrics are all about this guy basically telling this girl that she never gave them a chance as a couple, and,_ ummmm_—"

"Oh," she said quietly.

Booth sighed. "You told me you wouldn't get mad, remember?"

"Angry," she tersely corrected him, unable to help herself over his continued grammatical faux pas.

"Fine, 'angry'...whatever," he said, rolling his eyes. "You promised, remember?"

"If it makes you feel any better," she said, unable to hide the tension in the way she held her jaw as she spoke. "I give you my word I won't have an overtly negative response. So, please proceed."

"Look, Bones," Booth said, his voice low and even. "I'm just telling you what I dreamed about, but you can't get all upset, okay? Besides, you'll like the ending, I think." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Okay," she said with a hesitant laugh.

"So, anyway," he continued. "The song the sergeant was playing really pissed me off, probably because it reminded me of how I felt—anyway, so I stomped out of the barracks and went off to find a quiet place where I could be alone. So I wandered off through the camp and went to this place where I guess I'd hung out before, and wouldn't ya know it? There's another soldier, in my special little spot, and he's cleaning his rifle and singing this Tom Jones song, real effeminate-like. That was when I knew I was dreaming."

"What do you mean?"

Booth laughed. "Because in the Army, never mind a Special Forces detachment like the one I was in in my dream or a Rangers unit like the ones I've served in before, if a guy sang a Tom Jones song in earshot of another soldier, he'd get his ass kicked for being a prissy emo little pussy. It's not right. It's downright friggin' obnoxious and wrong, but I'm telling ya, that's how the Army is—especially the enlisted infantry...and _most _especially a unit like mine. It's all testosterone, all the time, Bones. You just can't do that, and—anyways..."

"It sounds as if you're speaking from personal experience," she noted wryly.

"What?" he replied a bit too quickly for his response to be in any way _not _considered as defensive. "Are you suggesting I got my ass kicked, or that I did the ass-kicking? Because the answer is neither."

"I'm just asking if you liked Tom Jones," she said with a wry, lopsided smile. "My dad does. He's got quite an entertaining repertoire in his musical catalog."

"Oh, well, yeah," he said. "You know I have diverse musical tastes, Bones." He winked and began to sing in a broad albeit unpracticed baritone, "_'It's not unusual to be loved by anyone...'_"

"So," she laughed lightly before she continued with her next question. "By logical deduction, since you like Tom Jones, did you get your ass kicked at some point in the dream?"

Booth cocked his head, puzzled at the strange turns her logic had taken. "Well, no, silly—at least not because I was singing Tom Jones because I wasn't singing it. Besides, it—whatever, Bones." He shook his head and continued. "So, anyway, I got even more pissed, because all I wanted to do was to go someplace where I could be alone, away from all the noise and clamor and bullshit of the barracks and the camp generally, you know. Okay, so then I go to this other place, a group of fig trees over on one end of the camp, I guess where I'd, in my dream you know, hung out before. And, motherfucker—"

"Who, me?" she blinked at him, somewhat surprised at his strong exclamation.

"No, sorry, Bones," he said, blushing a little at his coarse language. "I didn't mean you. It's just, in the Army, well—I gotta tell ya, Bones, soldiers swear worse than sailors."

"Aren't sailors accurately considered soldiers, as well, Booth, since their just different divisions of an army fighting combat force?" Brennan blinked.

Forcing himself not to sigh, lest he get pulled into a tangential and lengthy explanation as to why there was a distinct difference between members of the Army and the Navy, Booth shook his head as he said, "Bones, quit trying to distract me. I'm just trying to create an ambiance reminiscent of what it's like to be in the Army, okay?"

"Booth," she groaned. "I've spent time in Iraq identifying the remains of dead soldiers. It's not like you're the first member of the military that I've ever encountered—"

"I know, Bones," he said. "But it's different being an enlisted man among enlisted men. You probably spent all your time with colonels and generals and the higher up muckety mucks in the officer's club. The only sergeants or specialists you probably saw were the ones that refilled your coffee mug." Booth grinned at his own remark, but his grin quickly fled as he saw that she apparently did not find it amusing.

"I retrieved and refilled my own coffee mug, Booth," Brennan explained to him quite seriously. "I didn't need to impose on any non-comms to do it."

"Okay, whatever, look," he said, raising his hand as if to wave off yet another potential digression. "Never mind. So, anyway—so, I walk up to my favorite fig tree, because apparently in my dream, I had this favorite fig tree."

"You know, I bet you were unaware of this, but I'm allergic to fig trees. I break out into a severe rash any time I'm within ten feet of a fig tree. I particularly dislike them for that reason," Brennan said, making a face as she recalled how much she hated all members of the ficus family.

"Bones," he groaned. " I'm trying to tell you what you said you wanted me to tell you, so come on—"

"Sorry," she said again. "But, I still hate fig trees—just so you're aware."

"Fine," he sighed in clear exasperation. "So like I was saying, you guessed it, some kid Ranger's sitting at the base of _my _fig tree, cranking this heavy metal band singing about not letting opportunities pass you by, not wasting time, _et_ _cetera_. Which, of course, hit a nerve, and so—"

"Why did that hit a nerve, metaphorically speaking, Booth?" Brennan inquired.

Booth lay there, his head propped on his hand, and looked down at the winkled bedsheet. He thought back to that night at the Hoover, and chewed his bottom lip. _Damn, Bones, that's a really good question. Why do I have this feeling that I wasted so much time? _He remembered standing at the door to her brother's stepdaughter's hospital room, and how she'd kissed him on the cheek, and the way he'd nearly fallen over when he felt her lips on his skin. _What did I feel for her back then? Was that when it all started to change? Or, was it when Caroline had us kiss under the mistletoe? _He smiled vaguely at the memory, and how he had protested when Brennan had proposed the idea. _'I'll have a talk with Caroline.' Why didn't I want to kiss Bones then? Was I afraid of us? Was I afraid of what she'd do? Or was I afraid of what __I'd__ do? Was I really waiting on her, or was there something else that held me back? _He glanced up at Brennan and smiled as her pale eyes blinked back at him expectantly. _What if I'd said something earlier? If she wasn't ready that night at the Hoover, just a few months ago, is there any reason to actually think things would've turned out differently had I said something sooner? _Booth averted his gaze from hers again as his belly clenched with a swirl of memories._ But I'm here, and she's here with me_, he thought_. Right? Would it have been different, had I said something earlier? Had I been more honest with her that night on the street when we were working the Harbingers case when I told her I loved her and then chickened out and said it was just in a professional, atta-girl kind of way? Or would it have made no difference? Or, does it really even matter now? We're here aren't we? Does any of that matter anymore? _He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Because, Bones, I feel like I wasted a lot of time," Booth finally responded. "I mean, sometimes, I feel like I should've been more open with you about how I felt—how I feel about you—"

She reached out and placed a hand on his arm to get his attention. "Booth?"

He looked over at her and tilted his head at hearing her say his name.

"You were upset because of how you feel about me?" she asked in a voice that was so soft, Booth had to struggle to hear the question she actually asked.

Booth sighed and looked up at her. "Yeah, Bones. I mean, sure. In this dream, well, it's hard to explain without explaining the rest of the dream, but yeah, in the dream, I was kind of upset about things, or rather how things weren't between us then. I—"

Brennan looked up at him, and he could see her emotional insecurity still roiling just under the surface in her eyes. His assumptions were confirmed when next she spoke. "And...do you still feel that way?" she ventured tentatively.

"No," he replied quickly with a firm shake of his head. "No, I'm not upset. I'm so happy right now Bones, that we're here, together, that we made love, and that we're, you know, together now."

"Okay—if you're...sure." Brennan told him quietly. "Because, if you're not. It's okay. Like I said before, Booth, you don't need to spare my feelings."

Booth smiled and leaned in to kiss her, touched by how her willingness to display her insecurities to him showed how much she'd come to trust him. "I'm sure, Bones. I've never been more sure of anything in my life. I swear to God—honestly and truly."

"That makes me very pleased to hear you say that, Booth," Brennan said with a shy smile. "Very pleased."

"Good. I'm glad," he said as he flashed another smile at her. "So, do you want to hear the rest of the dream? I mean, there is sex in it, which is how we got on the subject in the first place. Do you mean me to finish telling you now or what?"

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><p><strong><span>AN2:**

_Okay, so how many of you guessed right? You don't have to tell us._

_So, hoo boy. A lot of major emo mojo just went down. And now Brennan wants to hear more about that dream. But the whole dream thing is still freaking our boy Booth out a bit. How much will he want to tell her? And what will she think of him when he does? Will telling Brennan about his dream help Booth understand it and what it reveals about him (or them)? And, most importantly (to a few of you, anyways), when do we get more tingle? Because this whole emotional revelation thing is nice and sweet, but where's the meat, right?_

_Yes, well, there's still Parts IV and V to go. Our plan is to have this whole thing posted before the end of the week, if our kind readers will do their part and pay the boatman by leaving a review so our little fanfic egos will be adequately buttressed to enable us to post Part IV._

::**grin**::

_One more thing: For those who may feel you've seen part of this chapter before, you aren't going crazy. It's because a chunk was previously seen, in modified form, in chapter 14 of Lesera128's "**What I Wish I Could've Said**." Just FYI. _

_So, ladies and gents, Parts IV and V are written and can be posted very quickly. You want more? You simply have to tell me and **Lesera128** what you think of this latest installment and this crazy fic so far._

_Press that little review button and do your thing._

_Yep, that one—right down there. That's the one._

_Thanks as always for reading :-)_


	8. 8—Cooking Off Ammo, Pt IV

**A Very Bad Idea  
><strong>**By****:** Lesera128 & dharmamonkey  
><strong>Rated<strong>**: **M

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><p><strong>Disclaimer<strong>**: **Ummm, nope, we still don't own anything. We have, however, apparently become squatters in the sandbox that we crashed...so, umm...yeah. There we go.

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><p><strong>AN**: _Not that anyone reading this probably needs this warning, but we're heading back into unf-territory. Forewarned is forearmed._

_Now, where were we? Ah, yes—in Booth's bed, and he's telling Brennan about that strange dream he had._

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><p><strong>II. Cooking Off Ammo, Part IV<strong>

**Pertinent Details on Scenario #2****: **Set in-between seasons 5 and 6, sometime before the end of 5x22: "The Beginning in the End" and the beginning of the episode 6x01: "The Mastodon in the Room."

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><p>Brennan stared at Booth as he waited for her answer, and then inclined her head by way of a response. He narrowed his eyes at her as if to ask: <em>are you sure you're going to let me finish talking? <em>Rolling her eyes, she said, "Fine. Please, yes, continue telling me as you were explaining what happened next, correct? You were saying that, in the dream, but not in reality, you were upset because of your feelings for me, how things had failed to develop between us on a personal level, and you just wanted to be alone, but you found yourself being stymied in achieving that objective. So, what was the next event that took place?"

Nodding his head in appreciation of her summary, Booth drew a breath before he pursed his lips and then continued. "Yeah, so anyway, I was totally pissed, you know, that this kid sergeant was in my spot. I mean, _my _spot." Booth gestured by pointing his thumb at his naked chest. "And I was all cranked up, you know, about to blow a gasket, and—"

Before she even realized what she'd done, Brennan interrupted Booth again with a confused look on her face. "But, you're not an engine, Booth, or any other kind of motor—"

"Metaphorically speaking, Bones," he sighed in exasperation.

"_Ahhh,"_ Brennan said with a nod of her head. "Oh, right. Please proceed."

Choosing to ignore her latest interruption since he knew such statements were almost a reflex coming from her, Booth opened his mouth to continue. "Yeah, so anyway, I was like...crap, I've gotta find a place where I can be alone, and so then I find myself walking up to this pre-fabbed building—"

"Pre-fabbed?" Brennan cut in again, raising her brows in inquiry, once more asking for legitimate clarification so that she could understand what he was trying to tell her.

"Pre-fabricated," Booth explained instantly. "One of those modular steel buildings that the military contractors like KBR and Bechtel built for the U.S. military in Iraq and Afghanistan." She nodded for him to continue. "Anyway, so I go up to this building and open the door. The building is about the size of a three-car garage, if you can visualize that. Anyway, I open up the door and walk in. It's an ammunition storage building, right? And it's packed to the rafters with wooden crates of ammunition—rifle ammunition, pistol ammo, mortar shells, armor piercing fifty-cal sniper ammo, machine gun tracer ammo, grenades—the whole enchilada, right? The whole building is so stuffed with ammunition and high-explosive mortar rounds that it's kind of scary, in a way, because if the thing ever caught fire, it'd light up like the Fourth of July, and all that ammo would cook off. Tens if not hundreds of thousands of rounds. It'd be really dangerous—"

Brennan hesitated only for a second before she ventured to ask softly, "'Cook off?'"

"Yeah," he said, narrowing his eyes as he explained. "'Cooking off' is the term used to describe what happens when ammunition is exposed to uncontrolled heat which basically causes the content of the casing, not the lead portion itself but the propellant and the primer, to react chemically which makes the bullet part—anyway, it's really dangerous, Bones," Booth explained. A smile flashed across Brennan's lips to hear him speak in such an expert way. "So, yeah, right—I go into this building that's basically an ammo dump, right, and I'm finally alone. Which is kind of ironic, right, because part of what I'm so miserable about in the dream is the fact that I've been stuck in Afghanistan for six months fighting the war, and the only place I can go to get away is a storage shed full of ammo."

"Okay, _now _I get the point," Brennan said. "There's a lot of explosive or flammable material that's all confined in that one single space."

"Yeah, that's right," he confirmed. As Booth realized he was getting awfully close to the meat of the story, he hesitated. "_Ummmm, _so anyway," he said, his voice faltering a little.

"You're saying that phrase a lot, Booth," Brennan noted smartly. "That phrase—'so anyway.' Is that indicative of something besides your personal narrative style?"

"What?" Booth rolled his eyes at her. "Sorry I didn't have time to prepare a proper draft of this little speech for ya, Bones."

"Does this mean you'll be submitting your written comments after the fact?" Brennan teased. "Such as a minutes of meeting?"

"No," He frowned at the sharpness in his own voice as he shook his head. "But I'm sure you'll get over my repetitive narrative style," he added, forcing a smile as he felt a mild wave of nausea suddenly pass through him as the images in his dream began falling into place, having been gradually teased apart from his cloudy recollection of the night before.

"Fine," she said with a sigh, noting Booth wasn't in the mood to play for some reason. "Proceed."

He hesitated, realizing with a distinct feeling of dread that recounting the rest of his dream was going to take him into unexpected territory with his partner. He pressed his tongue against the back of his teeth and took a deep breath.

"Right," he said, exhaling that breath and forcing an awkward smile. "So anyway—ha, you're right, I do kinda say that a lot!" Booth laughed, trying to use humor to push away his niggling sense of anxiety. Brennan shot him a look at his laugh, but said nothing as she observed his nervousness. He swallowed, then continued. "Anyways, so I sit in that room for a while, just kind of sulking, I guess, and then somebody opens the door, and I'm just about blinded by the light that shines so that, at first, it's not obvious to me who it is."

"Let me guess," Brennan said evenly. "It's me."

"Yeah, Bones. It was you," Booth nodded. "Lucky guess, huh?"

Brennan rolled her eyes again, but remained quiet.

"So, you walk in there, and you're dressed in this sexy, but-not-really-super-sexy, kind of eco-chic outfit: with your hair up in the lab ponytail and wearing a button-down red shirt and tan cargo pants, with those little hiking boots of yours I love, and—"

"You like those boots?" she asked in surprise, blinking.

"Hell, yeah I do," Booth replied with a grin. He raised his eyebrow and leveled a stare at her. "Anyways—look, I'm just getting to the good part, Bones." _Although, I'm not sure when we get there how good you'll think it is, but I sure as hell know you'll never let me get away with not telling you that part. _Cocking his head, he added, "Don't interrupt, okay? Not in this part, alright?"

"Sorry."

"Yeah, so anyways, you come in there and..." Booth fell silent and looked away. Several long moments passed but still he said nothing, instead scratching a non-existent itch on his chest as he looked off into the distance, obviously avoiding eye contact.

"What?" she asked, unsure why he had stopped, but clearly sensing his discomfort. "What are you nervous about, Booth? You can tell me. You know that, right?"

He swallowed once before speaking. "Yeah, Bones," he said. "I do...it's just. Well, don't judge me too harshly, okay?"

Brennan closed her eyes and nodded.

"So, uh, you sorta come on to me," Booth explained. " 'Hey there, soldier,' you said to me—"

"I don't know if I would use such exact language to solicit you," she said carefully. "Surely, there are more direct ways in which I could've verbally engaged you—"

"Bones, it's a dream," Booth said, a thread of complaint in his tone of voice. "More importantly, it's _my _dream." He looked at her and sighed. "I'm sure if you'd have dreamed it, you'd have said something different and way more appropriately squinty, but just work with me here, alright?" _Man, she's not gonna make this easy, _he told himself. _I just know it._

"Apparently, I already did, at least from what you've explained in your dream," she quipped as she blinked at him in curiosity. "But, okay."

"Yeah, right," he said with an awkward laugh. _Alright, _he sighed. "Okay, so anyway, you basically tell me that you've reconsidered what you said to me that night at the Hoover, after we talked to Sweets about this book, you know?"

He looked at her, and Brennan slowly confirmed her answer with a nod of her head.

"And, you told me that you've decided you were willing to go for a different outcome, and—"

Booth paused, his face suddenly a little pale as he waited to gauge her response.

At last, taking his silence as a solicitation for her to speak, Brennan shook her head slowly. "I don't see how _that _part of your dream's unrealistic, Booth, since, in effect, that's what happened last night," Brennan blinked at him.

"Well, in the dream, you weren't quite so—well, how do I say it? _Ummm, _in the dream, you weren't making any sort of commitment. It was just, like, a one-time deal." Booth paused as he tried to recall the quickly fading specific details of the dream. Feeling confident on that one point, Booth nodded as he said, " In fact, I'm pretty sure that's the phrase you used. I mean, the dream-you, in my dream."

"A one-time deal?" she frowned, clearly confused at his words. "Well, I don't know why I would do something so foolish as that given your considerable skills as a lover—which I long suspected before I gained firsthand confirmation of them last night, by the way."

Brennan stopped, saw that Booth was grinning a bit at her words, and she then amended her statement before his pleasure at her compliment could devolve into another flash of annoyance at her continued interruptions. "But, okay, you said it's your dream, so we'll work within the confines of your psyche's perception of me. So, you obviously turned me down, correct?" She paused again and then, as if realizing a key point, shook her head still not comprehending her partner's earlier discomfort. "If that's the case, Booth, I don't see why you were so uncomfortable about sharing this dream with me."

Although he was still quite pleased by Brennan's earlier compliment about his skills as a lover, his smile was quickly wiped away in the process of her inadvertently reminding him of what he'd done in anger towards her in the dream. Sighing, he nodded at her as he began to explain.

"Well, _uhhh, _see, that's the thing, Bones," he said, his voice wavering somewhat. He reached up and ran his hand through his messy, sleep-rumpled hair. "In my dream, I was really pissed. I was pissed at the Army, pissed at being in Afghanistan, and, I've gotta admit, pissed at you for showing up when I wanted to be alone. Because, remember, in this dream, I wasn't with you. We weren't together, there was no sign that we'd ever have a shot, and I guess I did like I told you that night in front of the Hoover, and I'd tried to move on with this other woman, the woman I was in bed with at the beginning of the dream, and—"

"What did she look like?" Brennan suddenly asked, interrupting him, this time out of a different type of necessity. "Do you remember what she looked like?" she asked, a bit of her earlier tender vulnerability creeping once more into her voice in a way that tugged at Booth's heart.

He hesitated for only a moment as he saw the look in her eyes, and, sensing that she needed the answer from him, he nodded. "Well, I'm not really sure, because I actually didn't see her face, but I do remember a bit. I think she had fair skin and blonde hair—wavy blonde hair, because that's what I saw when she had her head resting on my chest."

Brennan could sense that Booth was holding something back on her. "And, that's all you remember?"

"_Ummm, _well—we, _uhhhh, _we had sex, I guess, but I don't really remember any of that." He swallowed nervously. "I don't think we had sex in the dream. I mean, me and the other woman. Not you and me," Booth muttered. He tried quickly to push away the final conversation he'd had with Brennan in the dream just before he'd woken up—about having to let her go so that he could give this other relationship a real chance—in lieu of her questions about the blonde lover he'd taken in the war zone whose name had already faded from his memory. _Helen? Haley? Hilary? Damn, I've forgotten what it was already..._

"And, that's it?" Brennan queried him again. "You sure?"

Slowly, Booth nodded. "Yeah, Bones—it is."

Holding his gaze for a few seconds more, whatever she saw in his eyes apparently pleased her enough that she nodded. "Okay." Breaking his gaze, Brennan then frowned as she slowly shook her head. "What is it with you and blondes?" she muttered instantly, more to herself than to Booth, shaking her head. She then looked up at him and said sheepishly before she bit her bottom lip, "Sorry."

"Bones, come on," he said. "You know I love you, and that I've been drooling over you for the last six years," Booth said, bringing his thumb up to caress the edge of her jaw. "Never mind whatever other women I might've been with in the past, huh? They don't matter. It's you—just you, Bones..."

"I know that, Booth," Brennan said as she tilted her head to lean into his caress. "I know that, and I just said I was sorry. It's just...like you said—it' a bit of a sore spot for me, okay? Because, I'm many things, but I'll never be _that_—"

"Yeah, well, I don't want you to be," Booth told her. "I've had my quota of blondes for two lifetimes, I think, probably more than that, so it's all good. Plus," he said with a grin, "I don't think you'd look all that good as a blonde, Bones. It's really not your color—"

Brennan playfully punched him in the shoulder as she said, "I hate it when you do that."

"Do what?" he replied, rubbing his shoulder in feigned hurt.

"I hate it when you try to diffuse my ire by making light of my insecurities," Brennan complained lightly.

"I'm not making fun of them, Bones—"

"I know that," she interrupted him. "I just—"

This time it was Brennan's turn to be interrupted as Booth said, "Look, Bones. I don't get all agitated just because I don't have a Ph.D. or a degree from an Ivy League school, or have hobbies like antiquing or wine tasting or para-sailing or—"

"Alright, alright. I get it. Point taken," she told him. Brennan then leaned in and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Besides, we can always send you back to school." Her use of the term _we_ made him smile, but he said nothing. "I'm sure there are several excellent programs I could write you a letter of recommendation for—there's always American where I can get you a tuition discount if you want to stay local. Or, perhaps a distance learning program? The University of Pennsylvania has an _outstanding _program in criminology—"

"Of course, if I'm the best already, what good would it do me to go back to school?" Booth replied in a deadpan, doing a remarkably good job of keeping his face devoid of any emotion as he continued. "Other than gobbling up what little free time I already have, what would be the point in that?"

"Because, as you said, you don't have a graduate degree, and anything less than a Ph.D. is pointless in my social circles, so—" Brennan was less successful than Booth at concealing her snark, and a snicker soon broke her facade.

Taking advantage of her slip, Booth grinned at her as he wagged his finger in her general direction. "Wait, though—I've got it!" He snapped his finger and flashed an eyebrow. "I still have three years of NCAA eligibility left, since I had to quit school after that first year, when my shoulder crapped out on me. Maybe I could get a hockey scholarship to Penn—yeah, baby! That's the ticket!"

"Actually, Booth, the Ivy League schools don't offer athletic scholarships," Brennan noted. "Scholarships are allowed only on the basis of significant academic merit or financial need."

"Oh," he mumbled in feigned disappointment. "I guess that rules out that option, huh?"

"Nice try, though," Brennan nodded "Now, I believe we were discussing the dream you had last night—not other fantasies you have that I'm sure devolve into some sexual situation involving you as the stereotypical jock scoring with a ditsy athletic supporter." Her expression turned to a scowl as a bit of actual annoyance crept over her at the thought of Booth screwing a cheerleader who was—not surprisingly—blonde.

"You just won't admit you think I'm sexy when I play hockey," Booth said with a crooked grin. "That's okay, I'll let that one slide, since we both know it's true, Bones—"

Rolling her eyes, and attempting to get the conversation back on track, Brennan said, "As you were saying, Booth—"

"Yes, Bones?" he asked sweetly.

"You were angry?" Brennan prompted him as she pulled back and sat up a bit straighter in the bed once more.

"Right," he nodded, scratching his head. "Yeah. So you basically came into the ammo dump and told me you wanted a do-over of that night at the Hoover, but only on a one-shot deal basis."

"What?" she said, making a face he'd seen a thousand times before. " I don't understand what that means."

Booth suppressed a smile. "You basically came in and wanted a shot with me, but just on a sexual basis, not as part of a relationship," he clarified. "And, when you said that, I sorta got pissed off. I was angry, because I—well, I guess because, in my dream, even though I was with another woman, I still had feelings for you, but I was still angry that you had rejected me, and that you had walked away and run off to the Maluchicoo Islands in the South Pacific to hangout with the Professor and Maryann and—"

"Maluku is in the western Pacific, not the south Pacific. Besides, I don't recall having any colleagues named Maryann, Booth," Brennan said, scanning her memory at him mentioning the specific name. "Which professor were you thinking of again?"

"Nevermind, Bones," Booth said with a quick shake of his head, a small sigh of exasperation escaping his lips in spite of himself. " Just...never mind."

"Alright," she said, using the same tone of voice he'd heard her use a hundred times with her squinterns as she steered them through a problem with logic. "So, if I've understood you correctly, I wanted to use you for sex?"

"Yeah, kinda," he admitted with a small blush.

"And were you amenable to that arrangement?" she asked, her voice at that moment free of anger or, as far as Booth could tell, judgment.

"Well, no—it made me really angry," he said, looking down and smoothing his hand over his rumpled sheets again as he gathered the will to continue. Looking up at her again, he explained, "I was angry, Bones. I was absolutely livid that you had the gall to turn me down, you know? You turned down a real relationship, and then just traipsed into the middle of a war zone, when I was kind of in a relationship with somebody else, and then you expected me to basically drop everything to be with you, but not even really be with you in the way I wanted—in a real, loving, committed relationship. You just wanted to have sex with me." He paused, then grinned. "Which is, of course, understandable in retrospect since I'm such a tiger in the sack, but in the context of the dream, I—"

Brennan rolled her eyes in an exaggerated way. "Oh, is this the part where we pay homage to your ego as a sexual lothario, Booth?"

He laughed as he wagged his eyebrows at her. "The tip jar is right by the stage, Bones, so you can just leave a little something after the show."

She stared at him blankly, and for a minute, Booth thought she might try to say she didn't know what his joke meant. However, Brennan then narrowed her eyes as she said, "I only tip when I'm impressed, Booth. And, that part remains to be determined, FYI."

"Yeah, well—I'll take care of that in a bit," Booth said with a casual look. "And, there won't be _any _doubt left when I'm done with you, alright?" He flashed his eyebrows suggestively. "You'll be impressed, I guarantee it."

"We'll see about that," she said in a deliberately even tone, trying not to show how his cocky attitude and words affected her. "But, in the meantime, please proceed with your narrative."

Booth let loose another long sigh. "Okay. Anyway, so like I was saying, you went through this whole thing, taunting me, and then—" _Please don't let her ask for details, Bones._

"What exactly was I taunting you about, Booth?" she asked.

_Damn it_. His face paled a little and his breath caught in his throat as he remembered what she had said to him in the dream. "Well, _ummmm," _he stuttered_. _"Well, you see, basically, _uhhhhh_—"

"Come on, Booth," Brennan groaned in frustration. "What? What is it?"

"Alright, so you were basically cracking on me, because I didn't want to have sex with you," he finally told her. Brennan furrowed her brow for a few seconds, but said said nothing in response to his confession. Booth rubbed his eyes and took it as a sign to continue. "Not because I didn't want you, but remember, because I didn't want to _just _have sex with you, right? But you kept taunting me, basically accusing me of not being able to pull the trigger, and—"

"But, you're an excellent shot," she interrupted "Even _I _know that. And, moreover, you never would've completed the requisite training at the FBI Academy if you couldn't successfully discharge a firearm."

"Okay, alright," Booth said. "I _am_ an excellent shot." A confident smile spread across his face. "The best among all active Special Agents in the D.C. Field Office," he shrugged. "But, that's not the point, okay?" _Always __so__ literal, Bones, _he smirked_._

"But, you did feel it an important enough point to bring up the tangent in your digression to display your skills in front of me, didn't you, Booth?' Brennan asked.

She eyed him for a minute, her eyes dancing, and the moment Booth saw the laughter in her eyes, he relaxed a little. _Yeah, _he thought. _Now that she's figured out how to be sarcastic, I'm screwed_—_so screwed. _

Brennan then smiled as she leaned in to him and whispered, "I know this may be difficult for you to remember given the relatively short amount of time that has transpired since the circumstances of our relationship have changed so drastically, but remember—I'm already naked, in your bed, and we've already had sex once. I believe I'm what they call a 'sure thing,' Booth—so, while I appreciate the sentiment, I don't really need to be convinced that you're an impressive specimen."

Booth raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders slightly. "Heh, well, thanks, Bones." He pursed his lips as he realized her compliment, while welcome, was not going to get him out of having to finish his tale. "Right, well, remember, this is a dream, so stuff doesn't always make sense—it doesn't have to, okay? So, yeah, in the dream, you kept putting me down about not being willing to pull the trigger, sexually I guess, and at some point, I just...I just went off."

"What do you mean, you 'went off?'" she asked, a confused look resuming its customary place on her face that it had intermittently occupied as Booth had recounted the dream. "Where'd you go?"

"No, I mean, I snapped," he corrected himself. "All the gibes and low blows, and the fact that I was already so pissed about the Army, the war, the whole situation with you, and then not being able to find a quiet place to get away from it all, Bones—well, I was like dry tinder. And my anger got the best of me, I guess. So, like I said, I sorta snapped, and, _ummmmm—_" He hesitated.

"You were verbally curt with me?" she asked in such an innocent tone that it made Booth's stomach clench in apprehension even more than he'd already felt it doing.

"No," he said quickly, then shook his head. "I mean, yeah, I was, but that's not what I meant when I said I snapped—"

"So, you vented this aggression in what way, Booth?" Brennan asked, pressing him for details. "How exactly?"

Booth sighed and pursed his lips, then looked away. "Well, you see, it's, uhhhh, well—"

The image of him reaching for Brennan's hips and tearing at the top buttons of her khaki cargo pants flashed in his mind as his words trailed off.

"Alright—look," he said, taking a deep breath. "I kinda got aggressive with you. Things sorta got rough, you know." _Fuck. This is the part I really, really don't want to tell her. Come on, Bones. Please_—

"You did what to me exactly, Booth?" she asked, a vague smile on her lips.

"_Uhh, _do you really need to know the details?" Booth asked, his brow furrowed in discomfort.

"Yes," she said, her voice suddenly huskier than it had been just moments before. "If you remember them—"

He stared at her, noting how deep her voice had turned in the course of the last few minutes and how a slight flush had added a rosy hue to her cheeks.

"I do," Booth said with a sheepish grin, suddenly emboldened, at least a little, by her apparent interest. "Most of them, anyway."

"Good," Brennan said curtly. "Then, I need you to explain—be explicit, please."

Booth arched an eyebrow at the word 'explicit'. Brennan noticed and quickly defended her statement.

"I need to know all the details I can so I can get the complete sense of the import of your dream scenario, Booth." She looked at him expectantly, almost the same way she looked sometimes when she had just asked one of the squinterns to brief her on their preliminary findings over a new set of remains.

"Awwww, damn," he whispered after she'd given him his reason. _You sure it's not for some other reason, Bones? Because I think you'd make my life a lot easier if it were because of a more prurient interest_. "Okay, fine." He paused again, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "I don't know how to tell you the next part, Bones, and I'm not really sure that—"

Brennan took the opportunity to raise up on her legs so that she was standing on her knees in the bed. She kept the sheet haphazardly tucked under her arms as she looked down at Booth. "Come on, Booth. Don't make me use some of those interrogation techniques I've been wanting to try out on you for a while now. Tell me."

"What kind of interrogation techniques?" he asked, his reluctance temporarily disappearing and another look coming into his dark eyes as he flashed his eyebrows suggestively once more.

Brennan glared at him, clearly not impressed by the thought insinuated by his question. "You'll only find out if you don't tell me."

"I don't know, Bones," Booth said as he looked at her position which now put him at eye level with her chest, her breasts still visible in a faint outline through the thin sheets. "That sounds like it might be a way better to spend the time than me going over this dream—it sounds kinda fun, actually."

"Continue, Booth," she growled at him in warning.

He sighed, dropping his chin to his chest and feigning a crestfallen look once more before shaking his head and continuing his tale.

"Okay, so, look, you had taken off your red button-down blouse and stripped down to this tank top you were wearing—you know, the kind with the spaghetti-straps and the built-in bra that hides nothing and shows absolutely everything? And you looked freakin' gorgeous in it. I just about lost it when I took the tank top off of you, in the dream, because your tits looked so fantastic, by the way," he said, the admiration clear in his voice.

"That's not very realistic, Booth," Brennan said as she made a face at his description of what she was wearing and failed to focus on the compliment about one of the more prominent portion of her anatomy. "When I'm in the field, I don't wear dark colors like that—lighter colors reflect the sun and heat, but you know that since you've spent time in the field on a regular basis. Also, it's highly unlikely that I wouldn't be wearing some type of support garment in the field. I doubt very seriously that a flimsy built-in bra, such as the one that you've described, would be enough to support for my breasts in rigorous field conditions."

"I think we talked about this already, right?" Booth said with a shake of his head at her application of logic to his illogical unconscious mind. "It was a dream, Bones—_my _dream, so it's not quite going to jive with reality. But you did look really hot in that tank top, and I do think that's worth repeating, because it made your boobs look really, _really_—" He made a squeezing gesture with his hands before he hesitantly brought them up to her torso and rested them lightly on her hips.

Brennan rolled her eyes as she noticed he didn't raise his hands to illustrate his point as she observed, "You _have _touched them before, you know? You can if you want to. There's no need to stand on formality here, Booth."

"Oh, I know that, Bones," Booth leered. "Me not touching them has nothing to do with formality or decorum, but pure necessity, because, if I touch them, you aren't going to hear the rest of the dream," he grunted softly as he gave her a knowing look. "So, anyway, they looked really great—they really did, and yeah, well—"

Brennan angled her head to one side, raising her eyebrows as she waited for him to continue.

Booth squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds, gathering again the will and focus to finish what had become seemingly like an impromptu confession that he'd never seen outside the likes of Father Thomas's screened confessional. Sighing again, he said, "So, alright, you kept ragging on me, basically suggesting that I wasn't willing to make the move on you, and I just—"

"What is it, Booth?" she said, her voice oozing with impatience. "You really need to move this narrative along. Do we actually have sex in this dream, or is it all foreplay?" She blinked at him several times before she added, "What's the phrase...were you no action and all talk?"

"Yeah, well, that's basically what you kept saying to me," Booth admitted, looking up as he tried to recall precisely what the dream-Brennan had said to him. "I think you said 'all wax and no wick,' which is even worse, right?" He leered at her with a lascivious grin. "Because we both know I have a pretty good wick, now, huh?"

Brennan rolled her eyes. "One would almost think you were the female in this relationship given the amount of verbal reassurance you need about your physicality, Booth," she said dryly.

"I don't need verbal reassurance here, Bones," he replied defensively. He paled a little as another wave of uncertainty passed over him. "It's just that, well, I—look, I'm not sure I want to tell you about the rest of the dream now. You'd probably get the wrong idea, anyway, and so maybe it's just better if I just say that we had sex, and leave it at that—"

Brennan relaxed so that she lowered her knees so that she was resting on her haunches in front of him. She let part of the sheet that was covering her chest fall away slightly on one side. She arched an eyebrow at Booth as she said, "Ooops." She began to make an exaggerated motion of going to recover herself. "How clumsy of me."

Booth stared at the dusky nipple that stared back at him as if taunting him. "Yeah, Bones—you're a lot of things, but clumsy isn't one of them." He rolled closer to her and whispered in her ear, making sure to tickle her ear with his hot breath. "You're such a damn tease, Bones."

"Am I covering up or letting the other side of the sheet fall, Booth?" Brennan blinked at him.

"Well," he said with a smirk as he reached for her exposed breast. "I can never refuse an offer like this," he said, palming her nipple before squeezing it gently in his big hand. "Did I ever tell you that you have fantastic freakin' tits? Because, if I haven't, I need to, Bones. Pronto—"

She let her eyes close once as he touched her before she gently swiped his hand away. "Finish the story, and then we can play," she offered.

"You're a damn cocktease," Booth said, rolling his eyes as he reluctantly let his hand fall. "Stay right there. Don't move an inch. I'll be back, my darling. Promise," he whispered to her breast with a lewd grin. He let his head drop back and sighed, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. "You're really gonna make me finish this damn story, aren't you?"

Brennan's eyes glittered with mischief as she looked at him for a few seconds but said nothing. She then quickly rose up off of her haunches and threw herself against Booth's torso, rolling him onto his back in the process. Pinning him down on the bed, she grabbed both of his hands as she pinioned his hips with her knees. "Tell me."

"_Nnnngthh,_" he moaned as he arched his back in response to the grinding pressure on his groin. "Damn, woman. You're gonna be the end of me one of these days—I know it. I just know it."

Slightly increasing the pressure of her knees against his hips, Brennan looked him straight in the eyes as she repeated her demand. "_Tell me_."

* * *

><p><strong><span>AN2:**

_Hooo boy!_

_Is it getting hot in here?_

_Can our boy Booth hold himself together long enough to finish that story?_

_Brennan sure wants to hear how it ends._

_Do you guys want to hear how this ends? Or shall we just end it here?_

_Wait, what? **::smirk::**_

_Is that cruel teasing?  
>Well, the monkey learned from the best.<br>Lesera128 is very good at that mean cliffie thing.  
>The balance of the cruel teasing AN strategy  
>the monkey managed to figure out on her own.<br>_

_(Because even a blind squirrel finds an acorn once in a while, huh?)_

_But we digress._

_You want to know how this ends?_

_Same drill. Give your drachmas to Charon the boatman,  
>or in this case, click the review button,<br>then we'll ferry you across the River Smut-Styx to wait for Part V.  
>It's ready and teed up to be posted,<br>assuming we get a reasonable response from  
>the readership in the next 24 hours.<em>

_So get thee to reviewing!  
>Immediately, if not sooner.<br>_

_Press that little review button down there.  
>Yeah, yeah. You know the one.<br>Yes, you do...  
><em>

_Don't be coy like that. We know better._

_Thanks!  
><em>

**::wink::**


	9. 9—Cooking Off Ammo, Pt V

**A Very Bad Idea  
><strong>**By****:** Lesera128 & dharmamonkey  
><strong>Rated<strong>**: **M

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><p><strong>Disclaimer<strong>**: **Ummm, nope, we still don't own anything. We have, however, apparently become squatters in the sandbox that we crashed...so, umm...yeah. There we go.

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><p><strong>AN**: _Alright, you've finally arrived at the last chapter/part of this Scenario #2. Time for a few administrative matters:_

1) **Nasty reviews:** _The fic-writing team of _**Lesera128 **_and _**dharmamonkey**_ is a bit like NATO: a mutual defense pact. Attack one of us—especially in a nasty, worthless bit of mean-spirited bile masquerading as a review to one of our cowritten stories (the review pages for which we consider to be community property)—and you'll incur the wrath of us both. And in case you thought _**dharmamonkey **_was the easygoing, mellow, soft-spoken one, think again: monkeys have teeth, and this one knows how to use Twitter. So, please, don't be a jerk. If you don't like us or the kind of stuff we write, then stop reading. But don't flame us on the review page. You'll just end up being blocked anyway. That said, constructive criticism is always, __**always**_ _welcome, because that's how we become better writers. It's the non-substantive, petty nastiness we won't tolerate. (If you don't know what we're referring to, look at the snitgram someone left us today on the AVBI review page. It's pretty self-explanatory.)_

2) **Next up:**_ Scenario #3 is a Christmas-themed piece, our riff on "Man in the Fallout Shelter." That piece is far less deep than this one was. It will basically be snarky with a side of unf._

3) **UNF Alert: **_This chapter is seriously unf. If you think you can handle it, read on. But don't say we didn't warn ya. The NFPA fire protection code requires us to tell you that an approved, fully-tested fire extinguisher should be kept nearby while reading._

_So, without further ado, let's get back to the action._

_Or, rather, Booth's retelling of the action from that dream he had..._

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><p><strong>II. Cooking Off Ammo, Part V<strong>

**Pertinent Details on Scenario #2****: **Set in-between seasons 5 and 6, sometime before the end of 5x22: "The Beginning in the End" and the beginning of the episode 6x01: "The Mastodon in the Room."

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><p>Booth exhaled sharply through pursed lips as he stared up into Brennan's determined eyes. "Fine. Uncle. I give, Bones, I give! Okay?"<p>

She nodded once, a triumphant look blazing in her eyes as she loosened the grip her knees had on his pelvis just enough to show him that she rewarded compliance.

Sighing, Booth said, "Alright, so you're killing me, right—in the dream, although you're doing a pretty damn good job of it now, by the way, Bones, just in case you're wondering—you know, mocking me, insulting my manhood, and I just lost it. Lost control."

He paused, looking away again as he once more summoned the courage to continue. When he took a second too long, he felt Brennan increase the pressure she had on his hands.

"Booth," she growled.

"Fuck, Bones," he muttered, wondering why she was suddenly getting so antsy. "Impatient much?"

"Yes," she said. "Now, let's get on with it, huh?"

Booth narrowed his eyes at her words with suspicion uncertain if it wanted to rear its ugly head at her suddenly aggressive behavior or not. _Hmmmm...naaaaw. It couldn't be __that__ simple, right? She's not...she's not getting turned on by this, is she? No way_—_no friggin' way. Hmmmm...but, maybe? Yeah? Hmmmm... _Deciding that a bit of a test was in order, Booth said, "Fine, Bones. I basically started ripping your clothes off, okay?" He looked at her, watching her eyes, was pleased when he saw her nostrils start to flare more intently and her pupils dilated even further as her uneven breathing grew worse. He decided to hesitate for a moment, on purpose, to see if Brennan would react as he believed she might if he were right about her getting turned on by his recitation of the dream.

He waited a handful of seconds, and—_ Three, two, one..._

"Yes, Booth?" Brennan's response came like clockwork.

_Ahhh, _Booth smiled to himself. _Gotcha, Bones. Huh. How about that, huh? _

"Sorry, Bones—" he mumbled, deciding how much he wanted to bait her in retaliation for her earlier cockteasing. "So, I, uh, basically tore your pants off—"

"And?" she pressed.

Leering at her a little as he spoke, his tone grew rougher he said, "And, I shoved them down your waist with your panties, too—all in one go."

"Yes?" Brennan said, without a word knowing that she'd already given herself away. Realizing pretense was futile, she abandoned it altogether and pressed for what she really wanted. "What did you do next, Booth?"

"Well, there was this stack of crates that were behind you," he said. "And I pushed you against it, and—"

"Boxes?" she interrupted. "What kind of boxes?"

Booth narrowed his eyes at her. "Crates, Bones. Wooden crates packed with ammunition—pistol ammunition. Forty cal Smith & Wesson, I think." He then paused as he realized that no branch of the U.S. military issued such a caliber to its personnel. But the _FBI _did. He swallowed hard and then raised his chin, looking away from her for a few seconds before continuing in his recitation. _What would Sweets make of that, huh? _Blinking a few times, Booth eventually returned his stare to Brennan, and gave her an abashed look as he said, "So, anyways, yeah, then I, _ummm, _pull my own pants down and—well, you know—"

She leaned down, her eyes darkening even further at his words as she hovered over his chest with her breaths suddenly coming in rather short huffs. "No," she said in a low whisper. "Now, tell me."

"Oh, jeez, Bones. Can't you figure this one out?"

Brennan gave a curt shake of her head.

"You're really going to make me tell you?"

Again, she nodded quickly.

"Really?" Booth said, starting to bounce back and forth between being unsettled about continuing to tell her how the dream climaxed—_and, me, too_, he thought in amusement—and enjoying teasing her.

"Booth—" she warned him again.

Seeing that there was no way she was going to let him off the hook at that point, he gulped and began again. "Fine," he told her. "Fine, Bones. You want to know what happened—well, here it is...alright, so I yank my trousers down, and I'm hard as hell, and, well, I move in closer to you, but it's obvious that the angle isn't quite right, even though I know that there really isn't an issue, you know, since, well—" He arched his eyebrow and smirked as he thought of how he knew positions were apparently not a problem for he and Brennan given their frenzied movements, fueled by a haze of lust, long-repressed desire, and the liberating effects of tequila on both of their stolidly stubborn inhibitions—just a few hours earlier.

"_Booth," Brennan whispered in his ear as she pressed herself against him. _

_He kicked the door closed behind him and pawed at the lock, fumbling for the deadbolt. Roughly turning the lock as he felt her lips sucking at the pock-marked skin on his lower jaw, he turned her on her heel and backed her into the wall. _

"_Bones," he moaned as he reached for her, cupping her face between his hands as he covered her mouth with his, sliding his tongue over the cleft between her lips as he urged her to open her sweet mouth to him. Her lips parted, and he could taste the Cuervo as their tongues tangled together. He grasped at her mouth with his own, his entire body seemingly aflame, consumed with an overwhelming desire to devour her._

_To be perfectly honest, Booth couldn't really remember exactly how they got from there—him grinding against her body as he kissed the daylights of her, their mouths meeting in the same grasping way they did the first time they kissed in a Cuervo haze—but this time with even more desperation—him pulling their faces together so hard he wondered if he'd bruised her lips with his kisses—to each of them yanking their pants down so that the garments bunched around their ankles. _

"_Ohhhhh," Brennan groaned as Booth drew his fingers along the tender skin on the inside of her thigh and under the bottom hem of her panties. He grinned, stroking his two forefingers between her folds and finding her impossibly slippery as she ground her hips against his palm._

"_Yeah?" he said, unable to form a complete thought as an almost-painful jolt of desire surged through him. He took a half-step backwards, wobbling a little as the sixth shot of tequila made its presence known in the swirling motion of his foyer floor. Booth hooked his fingers around the waistband of her panties and tugged at them, grunting softly before Brennan's hands fell to assist him. He took the opportunity to slide his boxers off his hips and over his knees. _

"_Now," she said, toeing off her shoes and wiggling out of her pants, kicking her panties to the side a fraction of second before Booth reached down and grabbed her leg behind the knee and pulled it up around his waist. _

"_God, Bones," he growled as he stroked into her, throwing his head back as he nearly blacked out from the intense pleasure he felt as he felt himself engulfed in her tight, slippery warmth. Bending his knees slightly and holding her hips with his hands, he pistoned up and into her, over and over, pressing firm, sucking kisses along the base of her neck, marking her ivory skin as he claimed her from within. Her back smacked against the wall in a distinct _thump _each time he pressed himself into her._

"_Booth, oh, God, Booo-ooottthh—" _

"Well what, Booth?"

Brennan's voice brought him back to the present with a clumsy grin on his face as he finally started to discern with clarify what was real and what wasn't. He blinked the memory away—a memory he now knew firmly in his mind to be a part of his memory and _not _a dream—and tried to remember what he'd been saying before his mind drifted off into the most excellent memory.

"What, Bones?" he asked.

Brennan rolled her eyes at him. "You were saying something about the angle," she said, prompting him. "Remember?"

"Oh, yeah," he said, trying to suppress a sheepish grin as the memory of the night before coalesced with the memory of his dream. "Well, we managed that kind of feat last night and did pretty well, I think, despite the tequila, but in my dream, somehow the angle wasn't right, or I thought it wasn't and—well, I guess it was because, oh—hell, I don't know. Anyway, so I grabbed this ammo can, which is basically like a green steel box that holds two hundred rounds, and it's pretty heavy, but I pick it up and move it over. Oh, and I made you take your pants and shoes off. I mean, I—" He hesitated for a few beats before Brennan piped up.

"So, you then asked me to get into a more conducive position from which we could engage in sexual intercourse," she completed his thought as if it were the most logical thing in the world. She nodded as she told him, "I'm with you, Booth."

"Well, that's the thing, Bones," he said with a slow shake of his head. "I didn't really ask. I just ordered you...to assume the position. 'Put it up,' I told you. You gave me this funny look like you didn't know what I meant, which kind of just pissed me off even more, and I repeated the order. Then you...you sorta did it," he finished with a small wince, uncertain how she'd respond to such a description of being so utterly dominated by him.

Staring at him for a minute, Brennan considered his words in her mind, turning them over several times as she thought about what he'd just said. After a minute or two, she gave him a thoughtful look that seemed somewhat out of place given the fact that she was sitting up in Booth's bed, naked, with his sheet draped over half her body, while a perky breast stared back at Booth, still ready and waiting where he'd last left it. "I had no idea that your subconscious found the idea of me being so submissive that attractive, Booth," Brennan mused prudently.

"Well, actually, me neither, Bones," he said, somewhat surprised by her response. _But, I don't know why I am since this entire thing __definitely__ hasn't gone like I expected. _Deciding it was a golden opportunity to tease her a bit more, Booth added, "I kinda always found you at your sexiest_—_prior to last night, mind you_—_when you're bossing me around. I mean, you can annoy the shit out of me when you do that sometimes, but it's also really freakin' sexy_—_I mean, hot, Bones." He blushed and smiled sheepishly. "Crazy hot."

"Duly noted," she said with a reciprocal grin. "Now, you were saying?"

Nodding, Booth continued. "So, yeah, then, you know, after I have you put your leg up on that ammo can, and you turn your thigh out a little, so I have really great, uh, access, yeah—and, well, then, _ummmmm_." His voice trailed off again.

Brennan couldn't help it as she decided to make him squirm a bit since she knew he'd been deliberately toying with her for quite a while. "So, by this point your cock is obviously hard and free of the confines of your uniform, correct?"

"_Ummmm_, yeah, Bones," he said with a laugh as he looked at her and nodded. "It was, and in the dream, I was insanely hard. As I recall, I was almost in pain by the time I, uhhh, well_—_I was a bit blue by the time I was inside of you, if you take my meaning."

Brennan took the opportunity to wiggle her ass lightly against his groin. "Like now?"

"_Ahh,_" he hissed. "Yes, damn it, woman_—_just like now. You really don't want me to finish telling this story, right? Because if you keep it up like that, I'm not gonna—"

"Consider it an exercise in self-restraint, Booth—especially since I did make two overtures to engage in coitus prior to the recitation of this fascinating dream which you rebuffed me with twice. So, really, the fact that we haven't had sex again this morning is your fault, not fine," Brennan told him with a small smirk.

"Bones," he groaned, first at her use of the clinical term _coitus_ and then in annoyance at her suggestion that he had rebuffed her advances. _Get real here, Bones_. "The last five years have been an extreme 'exercise in self-restraint,'" he said looking up at her. He then muttered, "For me, at least." She watched him curiously as he shrugged. "It's probably a good thing the dam never broke before now, because now, I'm absolutely certain I won't be able to keep my hands off of you now that I've actually—"

_Now that I know un-fucking-believably good you feel when I'm inside of you, _he thought silently.

"And, you won't have to if you hurry up and finish the fucking story, Booth," she snapped impatiently, her eyes narrowing at him. "Pun intended, by the way."

"Well-played, Bones," he laughed. He then gave her a curious look as his dark brown eyes narrowed at her. "And I had no idea you had such a dirty mouth on you. I guess that means I'm allowed to curse now, since clearly you won't be offended, huh?"

"I've never been offended by anything you've ever said or done to me, Booth—not really, anyway," she said with a firm nod. "Annoyed at you, sure. But, never truly offended...at least, not for more than a couple of days, anyway. But, I will reassess that if you don't finish the damn story and hurry up so we can do something about that gun of yours that is pressing into my thigh, okay?"

"Well, I guess you were really annoyed when you slapped me that one time, back at the end of that first case, then?" He blinked at her, clearly flaunting her prior statements. Smiling at her in that cocky way of his that was _so _uniquely Booth, he nodded at her as he said, "But, just so ya know, Bones, since I'm such a forgiving person, I'm willing to let bygones be bygones."

"That's very generous of you, Booth," she nodded at him. "But, like I said, I was only annoyed at you for a few days, so I've already magnanimously overlooked your past transgressions—which I won't do again if you keep me waiting.. Now, spill—" She punctuated her last words with another bout of pressure against Booth's groin.

"If you keep grinding into me like that, I'm gonna, Bones," Booth half-groaned as she twisted on top of him. "Come on, please?" She looked at him for a minute and then relaxed the pressure that her thighs exerted on him and made a concentrated effort to be still in her movements. Booth exhaled in relief as he nodded and continued, "Okay, right—so then I just start fucking you, like crazy." He again stopped, frowning in spite of himself as the part he'd really most dreaded telling her finally needed to be shared.

"And?" Brennan said, her voice taking on an almost purr-like quality when she spoke. "Then, what, Booth?"

Swallowing once, Booth closed his eyes as he said, "And, _ummmm, _I'm kind of aggressive, you know. I mean, that's not the, uhhh_, _way I really am in real life, but in the dream, I was, and...awww, hell, Bones—come on. You know what I mean, right? You know what I'm trying to say?" He gave her a hopeful nod.

_Please don't make me say it, _he pleaded silently. _Because I'm not this way. I'm not that kind of guy. It was just a dream. _He looked into her eyes, so darkened with arousal that, had he seen them that way twenty-four hours earlier, he would not have recognized them.

"And, Booth?" she almost said in a whisper, it completely obvious that he had her complete and undivided attention. "Keep going," she urged, almost pleading herself as she spoke. In that moment, Brennan was unable to help herself as she noticed that the pulsing wetness between her leg was growing worse with each phrase he uttered. _God, Booth_—

_Fuck. _"Okay, so I'm just pounding into you, again and again and again, relentlessly," Booth said with a quick turn of phrase. _Fuck, Bones. What are we doing here? _He felt a twitter in his groin as he thought about how he'd taken her in his dream, so hard and fast and so rough. _But that's not who I am_—_not the kind of man I am. So why did I dream that? And why does thinking about fucking her like that turn me on so much now? What's wrong with me? _Booth looked into Brennan's eyes and saw how they had darkened with arousal just since he had begun telling her about his dream. _Maybe it's okay. It's just a dream, right? _She stared at him, blinking expectantly as she waited for him to continue and the look in her eyes seemed to give him some encouragement to finish the telling of his tale.

"And it's so sexy, the way you're just letting me totally be in control, and so I'm fucking you like crazy," Booth breathed, his voice husky with renewed desire as he remembered the climax of the dream. "And then I lose it right, and I was just about to come so hard, I just about fall over—"

"So, then, you came?" she asked, her voice unusually calm as she tilted her head at him in inquiry and interrupted him. "Didn't you?"

Booth looked away from her. She released one of his hands and took her free one to gently turn his face back to hers.

"Didn't you?" she pressed. "You came inside me?"

"Yes," he whispered, somewhat reticent in his response.

"And, why are you embarrassed about this?" she asked him, not comprehending his response. _Fuck, he's so sexy when he's embarrassed_, Brennan thought to herself. _Oh, God, Booth_—

He swallowed hard and then sighed once more. "It's not that I came inside of you—I mean, I did, but that's not why I'm...it's just, well." Booth looked away, gathering his thoughts as he recalled the way he'd taken her in his dream. He then turned to her and smiled awkwardly. "It's, well, the way I fucked you in my dream—it was like I didn't care about you at all. It was so totally one-sided, Bones—I just fucked you. I didn't really kiss you, or do anything to make you feel good, never mind come. I didn't touch you beyond taking what I wanted for myself. It was so incredibly selfish—an empty thing, the way I fucked you in that dream. I just used you, but you didn't come—at least, I'm pretty certain you didn't. You enjoyed yourself, I guess, but you didn't come. And, in the dream, I didn't care. Not one fucking bit. I didn't give a damn, and, well—" Booth shook his head, looking up and away with a crease in his brow and shame in his eyes. "And I enjoyed it. I liked it, Bones. I really, _really _liked it," he finished his confession to her.

"So, let me get this straight," Brennan replied with a firm nod of her head as she looked at him with a knowing look in her eyes. "You objectified me, tore my clothing off my body, ordered me around, and fucked me hard. Does that seem to sum up the course of events that transpired in your dream?"

"Yeah—" he confirmed softly.

"Well, I don't know about you, Booth," she aid with a small shrug. "But, there's only one thing I find there that's really offensive," she said, a bit of a laugh hiding at the edge of her voice.

"And, what part's that, Bones?" he asked cautiously.

"The unforgivable part where you neglected to make sure I got off," Brennan told him, teasing him slightly even if he was a bit too sensitive to realize it. "I never took you for the selfish kind in bed, Booth—"

"I don't know why I dreamed it that way, Bones," he said guiltily. "That's not how I am. You know that. Right?" Booth held her gaze in that moment, imploring her to understand. "I mean, I hope so, right? You know that? I'm not that kind of guy. That's why the way I treated you in that dream makes me sick. I feel so shitty, Bones, I can't even tell you—"

"_Hmmm,_ well there's only one thing to do, Booth," Brennan said, wanting to alleviate his guilt and reassure him at the same time. She smiled at him and added, "You're just going to have to make amends with me, here and now."

"How can you even want me near you after I told you what I did to you?" he said, the guilt still present in his voice.

"In a dream, Booth." She stopped and leaned down to kiss him, renewing and bolstering their physical contact. "It was a dream_—_just a dream. It wasn't real. And, of course I know that's not the type of man you are. You're a good, decent and honorable man, Booth."

Booth pursed his lips as a smile curved them at hearring her words. "Thanks, Bones."

"You're the best man I know," she whispered. "Your actions in that dream aren't indicative of your true persona, and it's okay. That wasn't real, it was just a dream. But, here and now?" She paused, reaching in to kiss him again to emphasize her point as he felt a shock of electricity as her lips touched his skin. "_This is real_. Now, us, here, together? Now, it's not a dream. Now, it's for real." The soft smile on her lips turned slightly wicked with her next words. "So, the question I have for you is, if I solicit you a third time, am I going to get rejected again or what? Because if so, you need to let me know so I can go use your bathroom to take care of this arousal of mine...maybe it'll do something for my headache, too."

"I can't guarantee that I'll cure your headache," Booth said with a laugh, as her words banished the darkness as if Brennan had lit a match. _God, I love her_, he thought happily. Some levity returning to his demeanor since she'd reassured him, he nodded. "But I'm fairly certain that I can make it so that that headache of yours is the _last _damn thing you'll be thinking about." He flashed his eyebrows and grinned a wide, toothy smile. "Booth lovin'—it's Philadelphia's own best-kept-secret hangover cure."

"I must've missed that one in the apothecary shop in the Old City when I was sightseeing near Independence Hall," Brennan murmured into his ear, dragging her lips over the soft skin of his helix.

"Well," he said in a husky voice as he bent his head up to press his lips against her neck. "I don't give it to just anyone."

"So, I'm not anyone?" she countered.

"Normal, run-of-the-mill anyones don't get the special Boothy cure for tequila hangovers. But a select few—well, actually, just one person actually—will get to experience the magic," he said with a cheeky grin.

"Oh, really?" Brennan asked.

Booth winked at her as he said, "Yeah, Bones. That is, if you're still interested_—_I mean, it's really up to you."

"Just for the record, Booth, I'm _always _interested," she grinned at him. He crowed a bit at her words, and she rolled her eyes_—_playfully this time_—_before continuing. "So, considering how the tequila _was _your fault, I suppose I do owe you the opportunity to make it up to me," Brennan said with a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "Especially since last night was sorta a bit...frenzied." She stopped and then tilted her head as she looked at him and said, "Maybe that's why your subconscious came up with that aggressive motif last night while you were asleep and dreaming?"

"I dunno about the last one, Bones," he shrugged. "As for the other thing_—_" He stopped and gave her such a charmingly shy smile that, if it were physically possible, Brennan would've melted on the spot. "I'm sorry about last night_—_not that it happened, I mean, but that it wasn't up to standards," he said with a coy shrug.

"That's okay, Booth," she told him, smiling back.

"No, no it's not, Bones," Booth said. "So, like I said, if you're still game, I definitely think a do-over will do you nicely." _And me, too, while we're at it._

"A 'do-over,' huh?" Brennan considered his offer. She then grinned evilly as she asked with a laugh, "So you fucking me against your apartment wall within three seconds of getting your deadbolt unlocked isn't standard Booth operating procedure?"

"Nope," he deadpanned. "Though, under the right circumstances—that is, when both participants are sober—it can be a pretty hot appetizer, if you know what I mean." He paused, waggled his eyebrows for emphasis, and then continued with a small shake of his head. "But no, that's not on the usual menu of Boothy goodness, in case you were wondering, and so I'd really like to rectify that, if you're still game."

"Booth?"

"Yeah, Bones?"

"Do...do you want me?"

He groaned at her question. _More than anything. _ "Yeah, Bones—I want you. Do you want me to prove it to you?"

"_Mmmmmmm, _I don't know," Brennan said with a small shake of her head as she bit her lip to keep from giving herself away. "I just don't know_—_there's all this talk of 'do-overs' and rectifying things, Booth, when you've forgotten one important thing."

"And, what's that, Bones?" Booth replied.

"That I may've been completely satisfied with how things went last night," she said, leveling her gaze at him. "More than satisfied, actually."

"Yes, well, maybe I wasn't," Booth grinned. "I can do better, so if you think the last time was good, just wait_—_"

"I don't know, Booth," Brennan said as she pursed his lips with a small shake of her head. "I just don't know," she repeated.

"Yeah, well, I do," he said. "And you do, too, Bones. You've known for a long damn time, I think. I sure have."

"Oh, fine," she sighed in mock exasperation. "Fine," she repeated. "You're right_—_so, if you're right, and you want me, and you want your 'do-over'...my question is_—_what are you waiting for? _Take what you want_," she said at last, tightening her legs against him again. .

"Yeah," he growled. "I'm done fucking waiting. I'm done." He reached up and cupped her square, slender jaw between his hands and pulled her mouth to his.

"Then, don't wait," she whispered through his kiss. "I'm tired of waiting, too. We're here. We're done being patient, right? Now's not the time for talk, Booth. Action is preferable to inaction, I think."

She leaned down and pressed her chest against his broad torso. Dragging her nipples across his chest as she moved from left to right, she felt a slow tingle in her pelvic region begin to grow in its intensity. "Now," she moaned at him, grinding her hips into his groin again. "Right now."

His hands suddenly fell away from her face and chased down the smooth, ivory skin of her back to the round globes of her ass. "Yeah?" Booth asked, his voice deep and gravelly as his hoarse breath disappeared into another demanding, grasping kiss. A low growl sounded from his chest as he squeezed her ass, pulling her cheeks slightly apart as he pressed her against his hips, leaving her with no doubt whatsoever as to how aroused he was.

"Do you want me?" she whispered again against his stubbled cheek. He grunted in the affirmative. "Then, take what you want," she encouraged him.

Booth gritted his teeth and winced as a vaguely uncomfortable flash of want tugged at him from behind his navel. He squeezed her ass again, pulling her against him and pressing into her damp curls with his erection. "Yeah?" he asked again, still unsure as his mind was swimming with desire whether he could form a coherent thought, much less a complete sentence. "Yeah," he muttered again with a nod as he slid his hands once more around to her hips, reaching up to capture her lips in a hungry kiss before rolling her under him. "_Mmmmmmm,_" he said as he bent his head down to kiss her neck, smiling as he saw the faint red marks he had left there the night before. "Definitely."

Brennan squeezed her thighs around his bony hips, squirming a bit beneath his weight as she tried to modulate the friction against her most sensitive places. Soon such efforts were rendered moot as Booth, supporting his weight on one arm, slid the other along her collarbone, down the space between her breasts, and across the expanse of her smooth, creamy abdomen, all the while trying to touch her skin not merely with his fingertips, but also with his palm, wrist, and forearm, maximizing the amount of contact between his skin—which felt to him like it was radiating waves of heat that grew more intense with every passing minute—and hers, so soft and silky he wanted to drown himself in the feel of her.

"Booth," she whispered, arching her back as he dragged the calloused heel of his right palm over her navel. "Stop teasing me," she whispered. He looked up from his ministrations, absently threading his fingers through her soft, springy curls as he narrowed his eyes, puzzled by her statement.

"What?" he grumbled, rolling her curls between his fingertips as he stroked his long middle finger along the cleft between her folds.

Brennan sucked in a breath through her teeth as felt him tug on the hair slightly, caused her to feel pinpricks of light at the edge of her peripheral vision, and she twisted away from his touch.

"No more foreplay," she said in a firm tone which then cracked with her next words. "Come on, Booth," she pleaded. "_Please_."

He looked up at her again, tilting his his head slightly as he heard something he had dreamed of but never expected to ever hear: Temperance Brennan, seemingly begging for it...from him. The sound of her voice, and the thought of her pleading for the opportunity to achieve sexual gratification because of his efforts, nearly undid him right then and there. Booth felt the tugging behind his navel become even more of a painful tightness in his groin when he became impossibly hard, and his balls ached for release.

"Huh," he grunted as he thumbed her clit once and laughed.

"_Boo-oooooth_!" she groaned, flinching as she felt him roll off of her and push away from her, sliding off the side of the bed. "_Please_," she whispered again, imploring him to act.

Booth rolled over and got off the mattress, standing at the side of the bed, a crooked grin on his face as he watched the rise and fall of her heaving chest for several long moments, his eyes blazing nearly black with want. Brennan squirmed a little under his intense look, turning her hips towards him slightly as their eyes met. He narrowed his eyes as he observed the tell-tale way the damp of her auburn curls reflected the soft, yellowish light of the morning sun that had started to peek through the blinds of his bedroom window. A low, breathy sound escaped from her lips as she met his gaze, and what remained of his self-control rapidly sublimated as he leaned forward and reached for her hips, yanking her towards him so that her ass nearly hung off the edge of the mattress.

"Did it turn you on to hear about my dream?" he asked, surprised that in the fog of lust he could actually string together that many words into a coherent thought. He felt his cock twitch and his balls tighten as he saw a twinkle in her eyes that told him, before she uttered a sound in response, exactly what she thought of his recounting of his perplexing dream.

"Yes," she whispered, her face flush and glistening with a thin layer of sweat. "God, yes...please—of course it did, Booth. You know it did, from the very first word—"

He swallowed, stepped closer and gripped her legs, his hands curled under her knees as he spread her legs wide apart. "What do you want, Bones?" he asked her, his voice a half-octave lower than normal. He leaned his head back and squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment as he tried to collect himself. _This is not going to be the wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am we did last night, _he told himself. _You owe her better than what you gave her last night. Much better—so do that thing you do so well when you want to and make it right._

"Fuck me, Booth," she growled, arching her back and thrust her hips up, almost as if she were the devil on one of his shoulders to the angel of his inner mental voice. Her movement brushed her wet curls against his thigh as he pulled away. "You know you want me," she said, forcing herself to smile through the painful throb between her legs.

"Damn right I do," he growled, releasing one of her legs and closing his fist around his cock, pumping himself a couple of times before leaning in and pressing into her. A long breath escaped his lips as he entered her, his eyes rolling back in his head as he was overcome with how incredible she felt. _Oh my God, Bones, _he thought, unable in that mind-melting moment to speak a word. He felt her warm, slippery walls envelop him as he drove as deeply into her as he could. He took a deep breath, pressing her thighs back towards her hips as he slowly withdrew from her.

"_Booo-ooooth_," she said, her moan almost a whine as she felt him nearly leave her. Her eyes snapped open and she leveled a stare at him as he drew his hips back and slammed into her. "_Ohhhhh_!" she gasped as she threw her head back at the sensation of him filling her up completely. _Oh my God, _she thought. _He feels so good. _

Booth forced his eyes open as he watched her body writhe before him, her back arching off the bed as he stroked inside of her. He swore he'd never seen anything in his life more beautiful than the way the ivory skin of her chest and shoulders flushed a deeper pink with every one of his intense strokes. _Oh my God, _he thought. _She feels so good_—_so fucking good, the best ever. _He dropped his hands to the mattress on either side of her waist as he stroked into her harder, pressing his weight against her most sensitive spot so she felt him, on the inside and everywhere else, with every pounding stroke he made into her. He felt her sweat-slicked skin slide against his and the sensation of it made his head spin a little.

"Oh, Booth," she whispered, gasping when she felt his stubbled cheek brush against her earlobe as he bent his head down to press sucking kisses along the side of her neck.

"Oh, baby," he murmured against the soft skin at the base of her throat, just slowing his thrusts ever so slightly.

Instead of the protest he expected in response to his reflexive use of the term he knew she hated, Brennan merely made a kittenish sound that made Booth groan at hearing it. He moved his hands farther up to give himself better leverage as he began to grind harder against her pelvis with every stroke. A burning, tugging sensation set deeply behind his navel and told him he was getting dangerously close to the breaking point. However, he also knew he had to bring her there first.

"You like that, Bones?" he asked her, his husky voice nearly a growl as he ground hard against her clit with every pounding stroke.

"Yes," she moaned against him. "But, you already know that. You can feel me already, tight all around you, can't you, Booth?"

"Oh God, yes," he groaned. "You feel fantastic. Un-freakin'-believable," he whispered as he stroked into her again.

"Do you know how long I've been wet?" Brennan murmured, sucking in a breath as he slid out of her. "Since before I crawled on top of you, since before I let the sheet fall, since you reached for me the first time. I've been wet all this time, and it's because of you."

"God, Bones," he murmured, slowly pressing back into her and holding himself there firmly. "You liked hearing me telling you about that—that crazy dream?"

"I like the fact that you trust me enough to tell me, Booth," Brennan said softly, lacing her fingers together behind his waist as she pulled him even deeper into her . "I want everything from you—good, bad, positive, negative, beautiful, ugly, and everything that exists in between those extremes. I want to know it all." She arched her hips into his as if to emphasize her point.

For a moment, Booth stilled his strokes and looked at her, his mind racing as he tried to assemble a suitably profound response to her proclamation of intimate desire. "Bones," he whispered. "Baby, I want that, too. I want everything, too." He hesitated, then opened his mouth to speak again. "I want to give you everything—everything I have. All of it." As the words left his mouth, he withdrew from her, eliciting a nearly inaudible whimper from her before he closed his eyes, drew his hips back and stroked back into her with a soft, low grunt.

"But, you're holding back on me," Brennan said with a small shake of her head. She rotated her hips slightly. "I can feel it." She stopped, wincing briefly at the ever-increasing pleasure of his movements, and then held his gaze as she said, "I know that whatever you're capable of, you would never hurt me. I'm not a fragile item that will break, Booth. I can handle it—I can handle you. I _want _to handle you." She sighed. "Please," she whispered.

"Bones—" Booth's heart pounded in his chest, and for several long seconds, his movements stilled again and his mind was blank.

"No," Brennan said, shaking her head again. "You don't have to be afraid, Booth. You won't hurt me. Nothing you can do to me will make me care about you any less than I do right now. You have to trust me—" She stopped, scooting her ass a bit more off the edge of the bed in an attempt to pull closer to him. "Do you trust me, Booth?"

"Yes," he continued to whisper. "More than anything." His mouth hung open as he watched her face.

"Then, stop holding back," she nodded. "You know what I want, you know what I need. We deserve more, Booth. Don't hold back. Give me _everything_."

Her words made him shiver slightly as he recalled the vow he'd made to take everything from the Brennan in his dreams. As if fate were giving him a chance to mollify his conscience by an act of giving to the Brennan of his real life, he nodded at her. For a few seconds, he thought back to the way her eyes had darkened as he told her about his dream, and he knew what he had to do.

"Me not holding back, Bones_—_that's what you want?" he asked her, his voice hoarse and growing rougher with each word he uttered. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she breathed.

"Then, everything, Bones_—_right now, that means me giving you everything is the same as me fucking you, Bones," he said. "Hard." His voice caught in his throat as he clarified, "Very hard." Tilting his head as he looked deeply into her pale eyes, he asked again, "Is that what you want?"

"Yes," she groaned as he pressed into her further to illustrate his point. "Now."

"You want me to fuck you?" he repeated, to emphasize the importance of what she was asking of him. "You want me to fuck you now like I fucked you in my dream?"

Brennan moaned in the affirmative as he pulled out just enough to quickly push himself as deeply as he could into her.

"Hard, Bones?" Booth said, as he picked up his pace once again. "Is that what you really want? Me to fuck you hard like that?"

Her back arched as she closed her eyes, offering only another moan as her answer.

"You like having my hard cock inside of you?" he asked, slowly gathering speed as he went and set a fast tempo. "You like it when I fuck you like this, huh?" he grunted. Her eyes snapped open again as her cheeks flushed a deep red, and she opened her mouth, but no words came out. "You like getting your brains fucked out like this, huh, Bones?" His own voice caught in his throat as he winced, trying to summon the willpower to hold himself together even as he wanted nothing more than to explode inside of her. "Bet ya never thought you'd be here, having me fuck you senseless like this, eh, Bones?"

He pulled out slightly, waiting for her to respond, his mouth gaping open as his breaths came hard and fast.

"Don't stop," she pleaded. "Harder, Booth. Please keep doing that—_harder_," she told him.

"You sure, Bones?" he said with another powerful thrust. "You sure you can handle it?"

"Don't stop," she repeated. "Oh, God_—don't stop._"

"Don't stop what?" he prodded her, slowing his movements just enough to get her attention.

"Don't stop fucking me," she clarified breathlessly. "Harder. Now. _Ohhhh...pleeeeaaaase_—"

Booth winced as a flash of almost painful arousal surged through him. He opened his mouth to respond to her, but in that moment, he knew he was beyond words. "_Nnnnnngth," _he grunted, slamming into her hard, holding himself deeply inside of her for a few moments before pulling away and resuming his grinding, pounding assault on her.

"_Yessssss_," she hissed, reaching her hands around and cupping his ass. She tightened her fingers, taking care so that they were splayed across the bottom of his firm cheeks. Brennan began her movements in a slow and firm pattern, but as Booth continued to pound into her, she began to increase the pressure so that her fingertips shifted to press her nails into his muscular buttocks.

Booth groaned as he felt her fingernails dig into the skin of his ass. Another jolt of electricity flashed through his belly and he felt his balls hitch, and he knew he was getting very, very close to letting go. "Bones," he murmured. "Are you—?"

"Close," she whispered, leaning back into the bed's softness. She writhed slightly, the incomplete thoughts echoing in her mind even as she spoke them. "Close—but, not there yet."

"Help me," he choked, stilling his movements for a moment. "Bones, help me. I'm not gonna last much longer—"

Lifting her head up from the mattress, she locked eyes with him and blinked several times as she tried to make sense of his words.

"Bones," he begged. "Help me get you—I want you to come, baby..."

Watching his lips move, it was almost as if Brennan was seeing a television program that had a picture slightly out of sync with its audio.

"Please," he whispered again.

She blinked several more times, struggling to process the information she knew that he'd conveyed to her for an important reason. And, then, as she finally realized what he was asking her to do, she gave him a slight nod.

"Now?" he said, his voice low but encouraging as he slowly rocked in and out of her. He had slowed his movements in the hope of staving off his own release.

"Talk to me," Brennan said, closing her eyes and leaning back into the bed. "Your voice—I want to hear your voice."

"What?" he gulped, at a loss for why'd she make that particular request.

"Just talk," Brennan breathed. "Your voice_—_I need to hear you—it...it makes things...I can feel the sensations even stronger when you speak."

Booth breathed deeply and drew his hips back, stroking into her slowly as he felt her warm, wet walls close around him. "You feel so good, Bones," he murmured. "So tight and hot, and wet, I can't believe it." He slid deeply into her and then pulled out again. "You feel so much better than could have imagined, Bones_—_better than in my dreams, all of them."

Brennan's hands fell away from Booth's ass and slowly she allowed her hands to come up, tracing her fingers lightly along her sides. They reached up for her breasts, and she began to play with her nipples.

Her breath was coming in short gasps as she rotated each dusky pink peak between each hand's thumb and forefinger. "_Oooooohhhhh_—"

"So good," he murmured, as much to her as to himself. "God, you feel fucking fantastic, Bones. I can't believe—" He watched her pleasure herself and groaned at the magnificent sight of it. "You have no idea," he moaned. "No idea how long I've wanted you, Bones_—_how long I've wanted to be with you." He swallowed hard as he watched her tweak herself. "To fuck you," he hissed.

Brennan continued to writhe as she played with her tits. Booth watched as she twisted her hips from side-to-side underneath him.

"Oh my God," he groaned, his long, smooth strokes turning once more into harder thrusts. "I've wanted you for so long, baby, and you feel better than I could have imagined." A long, low sigh escaped his lips. "So, _so_ good..."

"Fuck, Booth—" Brennan moaned as she started to feel the tell-tale small tremors start to vibrate into something stronger, much stronger, as she felt herself start to fall over the edge in familiarly wonderful intensive flutter. "_Fuuuccckk—_"

"Oh, _Booonnnnness_," he said, his low groan turning into a growl as he pressed into her, his eyes rolling back into his head as he felt her flutter lightly and then, after some moments, clench tightly around him. It almost felt as if she were pulling him more deeply into her.

"Oh, oh, oh, fuck_—_" Brennan cried. "Booth, _ohhhhhhhh—"_

"_Ohhhh—" _Booth drew back one last time and pressed into her, firmly and slowly, holding himself there as he enjoyed the way she quivered around him, and he felt her release wash over him as he let himself shatter, emptying himself inside of her. He stayed inside of her for a time_—_moments, minutes, he wasn't exactly sure_—_as he waited for his mind and spirit to waft their way back down into his physical body from wherever they'd fled to at the moment he'd broken apart.

Looking up at him with a languid gaze, Brennan broke the silence that hung between them as she smiled and used her pointer finger to indicate that he should come closer as she wagged it at him. "Bed?" she offered. "It's softer here."

Booth shook his head, trying to regain his senses. "Okay," he said with a laugh.

"Come here," she said with a silky throatiness to her voice that signaled her repletion. She lifted her ass and swung her hips back into the bed as she started to crawl backwards deeper into the mattress. "Now?" she asked.

"Yeah," he chuckled, chasing after her on all fours with heavy-lidded eyes. "Bed is nice," he said, perching himself over her as he bent down and kissed the base of her neck.

"So, I guess it's a good thing that we don't have to do anything today with the trial and everything?" she asked, almost murmuring as his lips traced the contour of her delicately pale skin.

"Mmmmm," he murmured against her neck.

"I'll take that as a yes," Brennan said, tilting her head so that his lips met hers in a gentle kiss.

Gently, Booth sat up in bed, grabbed a couple of the pillows that were haphazardly tossed against the headboard and began to fluff them. Punching them lightly for emphasis, when he was satisfied, he arranged them just as he wanted them before he rolled over and assumed a more comfortable position. Brennan sat up, watching him with a curious glint in her eye. When Booth was situated to his liking, he extended his arms and reached out for her.

Brennan scooted over and allowed Booth to pull her towards him, adjusting so that she pressed her body to the contour of his side. Her arm came up to rest on his chest as she began to absentmindedly trace small lines across his trapezius muscle.

Leaning down, he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead as he said, "Headache better?"

Yawning slightly, Brennan gave him a lopsided smile as she nodded. She then looked at him as she blinked several times and said in a small voice, "Booth?"

"Yeah, Bones?" he replied quietly.

"What happens next?" she asked suddenly.

"Hmmmm?" He raised a quizzical eyebrow. "What do you mean, Bones?"

She lifted her head and looked at his eyes. "When two people have everything between them, there's nothing left to separate them, right?"

"Yeah, Bones," he said, brushing an errant strand of hair off her forehead.

"So, this_—_us...I know it's not how either one of us thought we'd get here, especially considering the fact of where we were yesterday, but_—_it's better than a dream, right?" Brennan asked with the truth of her question clearly shining in her eyes.

"Yeah," Booth said, pressing a gentle kiss against her temple. "Better than any dream, Bones." He pulled her closer against his chest and rested his chin on the top of her head. "Way better."

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><p><strong>The End<strong>  
>(of Scenario #2)<p>

-TBC-  
>(for the series)<p>

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><p><em>So, how did you like that? <em>Was it worth it? <em>Please tell us what you think.<em>__

_We're putting the finishing touches on Scenario #3 __(our Christmas-themed piece) __and hearing what you thought of this one __will help motivate us to get that one finished. (__Is that blackmail? Wait, you don't like blackmail? __Well, we're fairly certain you're not supposed to.)_

_If you've been lurking your way through __the other 4 chapters of this piece, __it's time to de-lurk and tell us what you think._

_Please, don't make us beg._

_Leave a review. __Pretty please. All you have to do is click that little button down there conveniently labeled "Review"_

**o.O** **::blinks::**


	10. 10—Spreading Holiday Joy, Pt I

**A Very Bad Idea  
><strong>**By****:** dharmamonkey & Lesera128  
><strong>Rated<strong>**: **M

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><p><strong>Disclaimer<strong>**: **Ummm, nope, we still don't own anything. We have, however, apparently become squatters in the sandbox that we crashed... so, umm... yeah. There we go

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><p><strong>AN****: **_The holidays are a time for giving and, more importantly, giving back. We (**Lesera128** and **dharmamonkey**) are grateful for all the wonderful support, feedback, enthusiasm and encouragement we've received from the FanFiction dot Net community, so it's high time we gave a little something back to our readers for the holidays (and gave ourselves the perfect excuse to riff on a short scene that's been a particular favorite for both of us). So what better way to do that than to chose to focus on a holiday-themed Booth and Brennan story with ample snark drizzled with a generous helping of unf? Well, there isn't any, as far as we're concerned. So, here you go. There were several great holiday Bones episodes we could choose from, but we went with the first Bones holiday episode, because it has several little moments that just oozed "unf." Yeah, you know which ones—but in case you forgot, or missed a couple, well, you'll see what we mean._

_Also, we would like to point out the following: the two characters are somewhat out of sorts due to their anti-fungal meds. Quite honestly, that means that they both say and do things they normally wouldn't do (hence the fun and the story). No offense or disrespect on the part of the authors is intended in the course of any of the ensuing discussion of God, heaven, hell, or any religions, named or unnamed. Brennan's probably just been influenced by Trey Parker and Matt Stone more than she realizes. :)_

**UNF Alert****: **_Yes, folks. You're reading a Dharmasera fic. So who are we kidding? This piece is going to be unf. Which is why you're here. Now, this one won't be quite as angry as Scenario #1 (or the first couple of chapters of Scenario #2, for that matter), but there will be snarky B&B banter—nothing too mean or angsty, though (because that wouldn't be very festive). If you don't like that kind of thing, move along. If you do, then read on. Keep that fire extinguisher handy, folks, because this piece might get hot._

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><p><strong>III. Spreading Holiday Joy, Part I<strong>

**Pertinent Details on Scenario #3****: **Set during the episode 1x09: "The Man in the Fallout Shelter."

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><p>If there was one thing that didn't say Christmas to anyone gathered in quarantine at the Medico-Legal Lab of the Jeffersonian Institute in Washington D.C., it was being shot in the behind with a thick needle that delivered an anti-fungal drug cocktail into their system to combat a lung fungus that they may or may not have inhaled two days before the holiday.<p>

It was with this idea held firmly in her mind that Brennan felt her growing ire continue to rise. Such negative emotions were nothing new to the group. Since the very minute that everyone who'd been forced to stay confined in the lab, their perturbation had continued to bubble through to the service. Thus, Brennan was merely maintaining the status quo when she sighed, shot Goodman a very specific look of annoyance, and turned around to blink several times in confusion as she watched her partner get this hazy look on his eyes from where he was staring at a string of lights. Sighing, she clenched her fists as she trudged to where Booth was standing, reluctantly grabbed his hand as she gave him a hard yank, and guided him off the platform.

"Hey, cut it out," Booth muttered in annoyance, trying to pull his hand free of Brennan's vise-like grasp as they walked. "I want to look at the shiny stuff some more."

"You know, I don't know why I'm the one who has to babysit you," she snapped as she guided Booth towards her office. Shaking her head, she continued to mutter—more to herself than to Booth—as they walked. "I have three PhDs, I've logged more hours in the field and lab than most scholars twice my age, and—"

"And, you're still a huge pain in my ass," Booth grumbled, as if the thought had suddenly just gotten his attention. He slipped his hand free from her grip as he rubbed the spot on his ass where the CDC team had just injected him with the anti-fungal drug cocktail. "Kinda like right there—that spot, _right _there where they poked me. It's annoying...kinda just like you, Bones." He stopped, looked up at her with a goofy grin, and then said, "Hey, I have two pains in my asses now. How about that?"

Rolling her eyes, Brennan grabbed his wrist again, yanked him into her office, and brought him to stand in front of the couch. Pointing at it, she said to him, "Sit."

Narrowing his eyes at hearing the snippy tone of her voice, he shook his head in a way that was remarkably similar to how Parker looked when the four year-old was in a particularly petulant mood. "Nah uh," Booth shook his head. "I'm not gonna."

"Sit down, Booth," Brennan ordered him. "Right now."

"I'm not Lassie, Bones. I don't do 'Stupid Booth tricks.'" He stopped, then laughed to himself, before he cocked an eyebrow at her and added, "But that would be pretty funny if I did, wouldn't it?"

Sighing in exasperation, she looked away from him and shook her head in annoyance. "This is a completely inequitable and spurious onus that's been inconveniently placed upon me, and it's all happened because Goodman said 'he's your partner, Dr. Brennan, so it's logical that you would provide care for him in his hour of need,'" she muttered to herself. "This is so much tripe it's not even funny."

"I don't like tripe," Booth whined, grimacing as he looked at her. Brennan narrowed her own eyes as she saw how the glassiness in his eyes made his wide-eyed stare rather comical. "It smells really bad. I had to eat it once when I was on a deployment in Honduras in some kind of really gross-tasting soup. And, I don't know why people say dogs like it because I had a dog when I was a kid—his name was Schmitty, and I tried to give that to him for a treat, but even _he _wouldn't eat it, and that dog ate _everything_—"

"You had a dog named Schmitty?" Brennan interrupted him. "That's kind of a funny name for a dog."

"I was eleven, Bones," he said with a frown. "And, Schmitty was an awesome name, thank you very much, 'cause I named him after Mike Schmidt. And Mike Schmidt is beyond awesome, Bones."

"Mike Schmidt?" she asked with a blank expression on her face as she stared at him.

"God, you've led a sheltered life," Booth said with a sad look on his face as he stared right back at her. "Michael Jack Schmidt, Bones?"

"I know of a Johann Josef Loschmidt," Brennan told him with a small shake of her head. "He was a famous German chemist in the nineteenth century who was quite instrumental in disproving Ludwig Bultzman's second law of thermodynamics in their study of kinetics with his 'reversibility paradox.'" The incredulous look on his face told Brennan that most of her words just soared right over Booth's very high head. Rolling her eyes, she simplified her answer. "Since you seem to be unable to comprehend such a detailed response—even less so than normal—the short answer to your question is, no. Apparently, I don't know who a Michael Jack Schmidt was."

"You've never heard Harry Kallas talk about the 'great Michael Jack Schmidt?'" Booth asked, the disbelief still clear in his voice as he blinked at her several times.

"No," she repeated.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Booth said, "Mike Schmidt played third base for the Phillies, Bones." He stopped and then made a face as he said, "And, it's 'is,' by the way—not 'was'...'is.' Don't kill him before his time, huh?"

At hearing his words, Brennan laughed. "Would that I had such amazing cosmic powers over life and death, Booth, that all I had to do was to use the wrong verb tense to control the mortality of apparent legendary sports figures—"

"God forbid," he agreed. "Because, then, you'd do something like the Wicked Witch of the West did when she killed Santa by dropping that house on him and stealing his Santa hat."

Brennan stared at Booth, clearly bewildered even more than normal by his incoherent mixture of pop culture references. Shaking her head, she pursed her lips as she looked at him for several long seconds. She then forced a breath to exit her nose as her nostrils flared. "First, God isn't real," Brennan began. "Second, neither is Santa. Third, neither is the Wicked Witch of the West, despite your constant allusions that she and I have similar personality characteristics. Thus, since none of them have any true corporeal forms, I think we're on quite solid ground concerning the improbability of me being able to realistically fulfill your fear, Booth. Now, please will you sit your ass on the damn couch so I can go and get some work done?" She placed her hands on her hips in a clearly defensive posture as she narrowed her intense gave at her.

Putting his arms on his hips, clearly mirroring her posture in an attempt to mock her, Booth shook his head. "Nope. Nah uh. Not gonna."

"Booth—" Brennan said to him, the warning clear in her voice as her eyes squinted at him. "I'm not going to ask you again. Now—_sit down_."

"Make me," Booth said with a wide smirk as he stood in front of her office couch, but refused to do as she'd asked. "I dare you, Bones. Make me."

Something flashed in Brennan's eyes as she weighed the pros and cons of his dare. Finally, a sly look came across her face as she pursed her lips, shrugged, and said with a firm nod, "Fine."

Booth blinked at her for a minute, surprised at the seeming submissiveness of her response. Whatever he'd expected her to say, it wasn't something so—well, agreeable. Consequently, combined with his dulled senses, he was uncertain what Brennan was going to do until the very second when she actually moved. Reaching forward, she quickly grabbed his bright blue tie in her fist, bunching the smooth fabric in her hand as she gave it a hard tug. Pulling him towards her, she then reversed momentum and pushed him back into the couch with all of her strength. As she'd anticipated, the momentum Brennan transferred to Booth was enough to force him down onto the couch as she'd originally commanded. However, what she hadn't anticipated was Booth suddenly reaching out with both hands, hastily locking them around her waist, and pulling her down with him into a tangle of limbs on the couch. Brennan went down with a sharp yelp, and as soon as she regained some semblance of balance, she found herself draped over Booth's lap. Giving him a hard smack on the shoulder, she scowled intently at him.

"Hey!" Booth yowled. "That hurt!"

"You're _so _stupid!" she snapped. Turning her head as she tried to catch her breath, she said, "Why did you do that?"

"Why'd you shove me?" he countered, the pitch of his voice increasing in response to hers.

"That's not an answer to my question," Brennan retorted.

Booth shrugged slightly as he said, "Well, you didn't answer my question either, so consider us even." Smirking at her, he added, "Besides, I was just doing what you told me to do, Bones. I sat down."

"I told you to sit down on the couch, not sit down and take me with you," she snapped.

Booth playfully shrugged his shoulders as some of his earlier anger began to wane. "You weren't that specific. Next time, you gotta tell me _exactly_ what you want me to do."

"What I want for you to do is quit acting like a five-year old and let me up so I can go do some work," Brennan told him. "_Now_."

"Why?" he said, his arms having worked to snake themselves around her waist. "This is kinda comfy, Bones, don't you think? So why not just stay here for a little bit? Huh?" Booth narrowed his eyes as he looked at her with another flash in his eyes as he said, "I can probably really make it really worth your while if you're a good girl and stay put for a while."

Tilting her head to look at him, she blinked at him several times before she asked, "Are you insane?"

"Nope," Booth replied with a quick shake of his head. "I'm good. Real good, actually. Now, what'd ya say?"

"You're serious?" Brennan questioned him, still staring in disbelief at his words. Truth to be told, she wasn't certain if she was more taken aback by the fact that he'd called her a 'good girl' or by the fact that that he'd made the offer in the first place. _What is really going on in your head, Booth_?

Nodding with a lopsided grin and a teasing waggle of his eyebrows, Booth replied, "Yuppers. You, me, this comfy couch, and looking at some of that shiny stuff on the ceiling—what do ya say?"

"In your lap?" she clarified, a curious look coming onto her face. _Really? You're serious, aren't you?_

"Sure," he said with a toothy grin. "You're here already, and you seem settled. I'm pretty happy with how things are right now—so, why ruin a good thing?"

"You think this is a good thing, Booth?" Brennan asked, holding his gaze. _I'm not sure what's going on here, but yeah. Fine. You want to mess with me, fine. I can totally retaliate, Booth. Turnabout's fair play, right?_

"Sure, Bones," he said. "Don't you?"

Brennan stared at him for a moment, leaning in slowly, fingering his tie as she smiled coyly at him. Booth's grin widened in response, and as she leaned in so that she was just a few inches from his ear, she smiled as she said softly, "Because—unlike some people, I have work to do." She then punctuated her statement with another sharp tug on his tie. Launching herself up from his lap to a standing position, She chuckled as he scowled back at her.

"You're _such _a buzzkill, Bones," he told her, crinkling his nose in annoyance. _And a cocktease_—_such a damn cocktease. And, why do you keep trying to use my tie against me? It's almost like you want to lead me around like I'm your pet on a leash. What the hell? Nope. That's not happening_—_definitely__ not happening. So_— "And, another thing—I'm kinda getting tired of you using my tie against me."

"Somehow I think you'll get over it," she smirked as her eyes twinkled in amusement. "As the saying goes, deal with it."

Reaching up to his neck, Booth shot her a look as he said, "Nope. Not gonna have to—"

"And, why is that, Booth?" Brennan asked, crossing her arms as she still watched him in mild amusement.

Booth tugged at his tie again, loosening the knot, and said, "Because, if you want to treat me like a ball of yarn then I'm not gonna make it easy for you." Once he had unknotted the tie, he slowly slid it out from underneath his collar, then he rolled it in a loose bunch of fabric and tossed it to her. "Here," he snorted. "Catch."

Brennan caught the royal blue tie in her hand as she shot him a strange look. She studied the tie for a second and then held it up in the air as she asked, "And, what am I supposed to do with this again?"

"Dunno and don't care," Booth replied with quite a casual sense of dismissal present in his voice. "Somehow I'm sure you'll find a way to put it to good use, but as long as it's not around my neck like some leash, I'm a happy camper—so we're good."

"Oh, okay," Brennan snickered with a shake of her head. "As long as you're sure."

"Of course, Bones," Booth said. "I'm positive."

"And, you're okay with that?" Brennan asked, still pressing him.

"Yup," he nodded. "I'm pleased as punch now that that damn thing is off my neck. We're good."

"Okay," Brennan said with a small sigh. "And, here I was just thinking you'd gone and decided to celebrate being under the influence with an impromptu striptease." She muttered the last part more to herself, and she wasn't quite certain why she'd done it, but she smiled to herself once she'd spoken.

Booth stared at her for a few seconds, blinked, and then smirked. "And wouldn't you just love it if I did?"

Snickering at him, she shook her head. "_Please_. Don't flatter yourself."

"Now, now, Bones," Booth said as he wagged his finger at her. "You can't deny what you want to deny just because you're into denial."

Arching an eyebrow at him, Brennan shook her head and said, "And, what exactly do you think I'm in denial about?"

"Me," he grinned at her. "You're totally in denial about _me_."

She shook her head with a twisted smile and guffawed. "Oh, that's correct, Booth. I'm currently trying to deny you because I want to deny you because I'm into denial, right?"

"What?" Booth jerked his head back in confusion. He scratched his head, considering her words for a minute, then said, "Whatever, Bones. Point is, I saw you out there earlier."

"Saw me out there doing _what _exactly?" Brennan said, tilting her head at him in askance.

"Checking me out," he smirked. "I bet you didn't know that, now, did ya, Ms. Smartie-Pants. You were totally checking my ass out when they injected us with those pain-in-the-ass shots." Booth stopped and then chuckled to himself "'Course, maybe we should just tell 'em we think they should call them Bones Shots since you're—"

"A pain in the ass," she interrupted him, heaving an exaggerated sigh as she completed his thought and slightly annoyed with herself for knowing how Booth was thinking. _If I can anticipate his infantile humor, and presuppose what he finds amusing, perhaps I'm suffering from a heretofore unknown type of side effect of the drug cocktail_—_a temporary loss of IQ? _Shaking her head again, she said, "Yeah, Booth. You said that already. I got it."

"Cool, cool," he said casually. "But, you understand that this is a _really _important thing, getting a medical procedure named after you. We want to make certain everything's just so, so I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't make my list and check it twice. So, I'm just making sure, Bones," Booth said in that cocky voice of his that she found so irritating. "Just making sure."

"Right, Booth," Brennan said as she rolled her eyes once she'd let him finished his inane prattle. She then narrowed her eyes as she said, "Booth?"

"Yeah, Bones?" he said, smiling at her.

"One more thing before I leave you to your medically-induced deluded rantings—" Brennan began.

Booth's eyes bounced with each word she said as he said in wonder, "Cool alliteration, Bones."

"Uhh, thanks, Booth," she said awkwardly. She paused briefly then continued, hoping to head off another rant. "So, anyway, as I was saying—"

"Yes, Bones?" he said, relaxing into her couch.

"Just for the record," she said. "I was _not _looking at you when they were injecting us with the anti-fungal drug cocktails. I was _not _checking you out."

"Liar."

"Excuse me?" Brennan almost snapped. "What did you say to me?"

"You heard me, Bones," Booth said as he took that opportunity to fling himself off the couch and walk towards Brennan. Stopping in front of her, he tapped her shoulder as he said, "You were totally checking my ass out. S'okay, by the way, since I've got such a great ass. I mean, I would _totally _check out my ass if I could and I were in your shoes, you know, because I know it's that hot, so I can't really blame you for just doing what I would do if I were in your position." He stopped and blinked a few times as he then added with a wink, "Just don't think I don't know what you were doing."

With that, he turned on his heel and stalked out of Brennan's office leaving her to stare at his receding form, wide-eyed, open-mouthed, and more than slightly annoyed at the accuracy of his presumption.

* * *

><p>Later that night, Brennan sat at a station at the back of the lab's platform. She had left Angela after their impromptu discussion about Careful Lionel had revealed the fact that Brennan's family had left her a few days before Christmas when she was fifteen. The confession had come inadvertently on Brennan's part, and once she'd shared that very personal piece of information, she was not in any frame of mind to sleep nor be in close proximity to her best friend as she didn't want to really risk the potential of having to face more questions that she didn't want to answer in the first place. She therefore seized the opportunity to leave Angela's office and take refuge on the lab's main forensic platform. The normal safe haven offered by her office was not available to her because Goodman and Booth had claimed it as their sleeping quarters. Hodgins and Zach had already fallen asleep in the autopsy suite. Brennan had thought about retiring to the bone room, but solitude wasn't the only thing she was after on this night when she finally decided to head to the platform to start working.<p>

_I can't believe he called __me__ a pain in the ass_, she thought to herself as she walked around the bio-containment field that took up a tremendous amount of space on the platform as it held Lionel's skeleton. _I'm not the pain in the ass. __He's__ the pain in the ass_, Brennan grumbled to herself. _And, then, what the hell? I can't believe he actually had the gall to insinuate that me sitting in his lap on my couch was a good way to pass the time. What the hell, Booth?_

In truth, while Brennan latched onto her thoughts about Booth's strange behavior as a way to keep from thinking about the more unhappy thought of what she'd told Angela about her parents, the strange behavior of her partner had somewhat unsettled her—particularly the blatant sexual innuendos he'd started to make as his inhibitions weakened.

_What was he thinking? _she wondered. _I mean, I know he's suffering from the effects of the anti-fungal drug cocktail, but why would he do that? And, whatever he thinks, I definitely was __not__ checking him out_—_no part of him...and most certainly __not__ his ass._

Moving towards the very back of the platform, Brennan pushed aside one of the two armless, rolling black stools as she grabbed the other, pulled it out, and plopped down into the seat. Noticing that she was sitting in front of the station occupied more frequently by Zach or Hodgins, she noted, somewhat absentmindedly, that some of the bone fragments that her assistant had taken the opportunity to prepare slides for sat waiting on the table to be examined next to a file folder about Lionel's case. Guessing that Zach had decided to call it a night after he'd prepped the slides, but before he'd actually worked with them, Brennan grabbed the stack and moved the slides closer to the microscope. Leaning forward, she flipped the microscope's 'on' button, and had just started to delve deeper into the information that might be gleaned from the slides, when she heard a shuffling from behind her indicate that not everyone was as asleep in the lab as she'd initially thought.

Brennan didn't bother to turn around when she heard some more noises distracting her from her work. Instead, she merely continued staring into the microscope, only allowing herself to be interrupted when she heard her name called by the second voice she didn't really want to hear at moment (the first having been Angela's).

"Bones," Booth called to her, the earlier giddiness still clearly ringing in his voice. Refusing to turn around, she rolled her eyes in response as he spoke, even though she knew he couldn't see her since she still sat with her back to him. "It's after midnight, _hmmmmm_?" he said happily. "Christmas Eve day. Both an eve _and _a day. It's a Christmas miracle!" he exclaimed.

Still not looking up from the microscope, although Booth held her complete attention, Brennan said loudly enough so that he could hear her, "Still enjoying your medication, I see."

A little more shuffling continued as he ambled over to where she was sitting, pulled out the vacant stool next to hers, and threw himself into the empty seat.

When Booth saw that she was working, he tried to maintain a formal tone as he said, "Okay, so, what are we looking at?"

Knowing that he only had the slightest amount of patience for, never mind interest in, detailed scientific information on his best days, Brennan couldn't help but torment him a little bit as she said, "There are traces of lead and nickel in the dead guy's osteological profile."

As Brennan anticipated, she saw that Booth's eyes had glazed over when she finally raised her eyes to meet her partners. He had a miserable look on his face as he reached up and swiped the elf hat—which he'd been wearing since he'd earlier appropriated it from Angela—off his head. He observed grimly, "You don't seem too upset about missing Christmas."

Smirking, she continued to delight in teasing Booth—particularly when it involved his hypersensitivity about religion—as she took a ballpoint pen and gestured at him as she spoke. "Indications are that Christ, _if _he existed, was born in late spring and that the celebration of his birth was shifted to coincide with the pagan rite of the winter solstice so that early Christians weren't persecuted."

Booth sat with his chin cradled between his hands as he stared at her for several seconds. He then blinked at her and finally asked, "_Hmmmmm. _What are you, like, the Christmas killer?"

Shaking her head slightly, Brennan then nodded at him in affirmation, as she said, "It's the truth."

Annoyed at her presumptuous behavior, Booth gestured at her and said, "It sounds like the truth 'cause it's so rational, right?" His face tightened as he shook his head at her. "But, you know, the true truth is that you just—you hate Christmas, so you just spout out all these facts, and you ruin it for everyone else."

Looking at him smugly, Brennan only began to realize the extent to which his current behavior had deviated from his normal standards when she concentrated on his verbiage. Nodding at him, she asked indulgently, "I ruin the true truth with facts?"

"Yeah," Booth replied, "and you ruin it for the squint squad too by making them work on a case about a guy who's been sealed up in a fallout shelter for fifty years." He illustrated his point by picking up several of the color photographs that Angela had taken of the remains before they'd been put under quarantined lock down. He tossed them back onto the table haphazardly and then looked at her expecting some type of contradictory response.

Blinking at him when she realized that this latest conversation between them was echoing their earlier slightly confrontational discussion, Brennan breathed an exaggerated sigh before she asked him, "Well, how would you like me to spend my Christmas?"

Giving her a knowing look, Booth considered how best to make her understand his very important point. However, as he turned around to face her, he caught a whiff of her fragrance—most likely her hair shampoo—and couldn't help himself as he inhaled the heady scent with several deep breaths. _She smells really good, _he thought_. Better than a department-store fragrance counter. _Unable to help himself, he leaned in towards her, very clearly invading her personal space. Booth then narrowed his eyes and said in a very serious tone of voice, "Christmas is the perfect time to reexamine your standing with, you know…" He then gestured with his index finger as he pointed upwards with one hand at the exact time his other hand dropped down and came to rest on the soft swell of Brennan's ass. _Oh wow, _he smiled to himself. _I'm touching her ass. Yeah, she's sitting here, and I'm sitting here, and we're sitting here, sitting here together, and now I'm touching her ass. And it feels really good. And she's letting me touch her ass without breaking my arm. Whoa. She hasn't moved. I'm still touching her ass, right? _

Booth stopped, squeezed it slightly, and then nodded to himself. _Yup, I'm still touching her ass, and I just squeezed it, and this pretty friggin' amazing. Hmmm. Yeah... _His palm stroked across the fabric of her pants, noting the cleft of her ass beneath his thumb. _So, now, when's she gonna slug me? _He looked at her and then dropped his glance to where his hand lay, then moved his hand slightly to the waistband of her pants. _I'm still touching her ass, then I grabbed her ass, and now I'm touching her skin. Fuck me, that's great. I can't believe it. How is this happening? Wait, do I care? _He hesitated slightly, then slid his fingers underneath the elastic and felt a raw tingle in his belly as he stroked his fingers across her silky soft skin. _Nope. I don't. Fuck. How awesome is this. Oh, wow. That feels nice. So soft. Like a baby's bottom. Except it's Bones' bottom. Oh, baby._

She barely blinked as she felt him tentatively touch her soft skin, and he stared at her expectantly.

_What? _Brennan thought to herself. _Is he waiting for me to complete his thought because he thinks I'm some type of mind reader or does he expect me to knock his hand away from my ass? Because, if he does, Booth has another thing coming. I won't give him the satisfaction of knocking his hand away_—_no, I'm definitely not doing that._

Her decision made, she smirked again as she did decide to address the less incendiary topic. "A helicopter pilot?"

Somewhat surprised that Brennan hadn't even acknowledged his hand on her ass, let alone knocked it away as he'd continued to touch her, he decided to play along if she was game as he responded, "Oh, right. Right. You can't measure the man upstairs in a beaker, so he can't possibly exist."

Indulging him again with a nod, she questioned, "The man upstairs?"

Booth leaned in closer, slid his hand deeper into her pants and gave her ass a tentative squeeze, then nodded. He continued to lean in closer to her face, the fingers on his free hand coming within just a couple of her inches of her lips. _If she's not doing anything when I touch her ass, maybe she won't do anything if I try to touch her lips, too?_

"_Mmmmmm,_" he murmured_._ "You know, you don't know if you're sick, but you're more than willing to take drugs just in case. It seems to me you could give the man upstairs the same benefit of the doubt that you do an invisible fungus."

_Come on, Bones. Give me some signs here. I don't know if I need to play it safe and hug the base or if I'm free to advance_. When she didn't say anything, Booth sighed. _Fine. Be that way. _He then gave her ass one more strong squeeze before he emphasized his words with a raised brow and a quick, sardonic jerk of his head, then stood up, and began to walk away.

Brennan stared, surprised at his unexpected dismissal, and felt a surge of annoyance flare in her as he so casually walked away—especially after he'd squeezed her ass a second time. _What the hell, Booth? Are you really going to do that and think you can just walk away from me? Really?_ Narrowing her eyes at his receding form, she pursed her lips. She struggled for a way to call him back to her without letting him know how much his seemingly random denial of her had actually bothered her. However, as his body continued to fade from sight, Brennan knew that if she didn't say something soon that he'd be gone. And, for some reason that she wasn't quite ready to admit to herself at that very moment in time, she wasn't ready for him to be gone yet. Turning around in her chair, she placed her hands on her thighs as she spoke a single word, her voice clear as she beckoned him to return back to her.

"Booth."

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, as if she'd uttered some kind of spell, Booth stopped, spun on his heels, and turned around. He didn't move for several long seconds before he replied, "Yeah, Bones?"

"Can you come here for a moment, please?" she asked almost prettily.

Booth narrowed his eyes, contemplating her request as he smirked to himself, and then nodded. Placing the elf's hat back on his head, he adjusted it so that it sat at a playful angle, and then swaggered back to her.

"You rang?" he asked merrily, smirking at his own wit.

Looking at him carefully, Brennan said, "I have a question for you."

"Shoot, Bones," Booth said, crossing his arms expectantly. "Whatcha wanna know?"

"What I want to know is this," she said, her words coming slowly and evenly. "You said I should have faith in God like I do in the drugs I take because I might or might not have contracted Valley Fever, didn't you?"

"Yeah, so?" he returned, somewhat disappointed at her obvious question. _Okay, Bones. That was pretty easy. You sure you don't want to try to hit me with something a bit harder, or what? After all, I'm the one, the only Special Agent Seeley Joseph Booth, and I'm here to impress all the ladies_—_even you._ "Anything else you wanna know?"

Laughing slightly, Brennan shook her head as she said, "That wasn't my question, Booth."

"But, it was a question," he told her. "It was a question, not a statement, Bones. So why didn't you just say you wanted me to answer two questions instead of lying to me and saying that you just had one question you wanted to ask me?"

"I didn't lie," she snapped, suddenly annoyed again at his snippyness.

"Sure," Booth interrupted her. "Of course, you did. You said that you had a question for me. Then, you asked me if I said that you should have faith in God like you do in the funny meds they gave us because we might've gotten the fever or not because of the Bugman's drinking problem. I answered yes. So, that would've had to have been your question or else you lied because if you asked another question then I'd be answering more than one question. So, yeah." Booth stopped, tilted his head as he considered his rambling explanation and then nodded in confirmation as he seemed pleased with the way he'd verbalized his logic. "Yeah, that's it."

"That's it?" Brennan asked in clear disbelief. "That made absolutely no damn sense, Booth—none at all."

"Don't know what you're talking about, Bones," Booth said with a smile as he shook his head in denial. "That made total sense to me."

"Yes, well, considering the fact that you barely make any sense on a good day, I think we need to admit that I'm the expert in logic and rational explanations, and I say it doesn't," she laughed. "Not at all."

"Not my problem, Bones, if you can't keep up," he said. "Now, unless there's anything else, I'm gonna go."

"But, wait," Brennan said, the small hitch in her voice catching Booth's attention.

"Yeah, Bones?" he grinned.

Rolling her eyes, Brennan said, "I need you to tell me something please."

"Sure," he replied as he smiled a sly smile at her. "What do you want me to tell you?"

"Why should I have the same faith in God, in the scenario you described, as I do in medication that I know will work if I _have _contracted the fever? It's not really a question of faith, you know, if I'm just taking precautions," Brennan said. "So, can you tell me why me having belief in a fictional deity, who by the very fact that he doesn't exist would have no ability to influence the outcome of events, would somehow be the equivalent?"

His jaw tensing, Booth pursed his lips as he felt a bit of anger displace the euphoria he'd spent the last several hours embracing. "Don't do that," he told her firmly, lifting his chin defiantly as he stared at her and only concentrated on her final words.

"Don't do what?" she asked, a bit taken aback at his display of angry.

"You damn well know what," he growled as he took a step towards her and wagged his finger in a clear gesture of warning. "Don't you _dare _insult God. Not on His birthday. It's not a nice thing to do." He leveled a hard stare at her. "It's mean, Bones. It's just plain mean, so cut it out."

"Then, you're saying that I can insult God on any other day, and you won't complain about it?" Brennan countered, allowing herself to react to the aggressiveness in Booth's voice. "Because, if so, I'm willing to trade both the 24th and 25th of December if you'll shut up about the existence of so-called magical omnipotent beings for the other 363 days of the year."

Booth took another step towards her as he said, "What happened to just 'taking precautions,' Bones? What about being on the safe side of things, huh?"

"First, not all things have sides as some things are geometrically shaped with curves. Second, if said objects do have any sides, as there is no way to determine which ones might accurately be described in a so-called way as being 'safe,' to use your eponymous descriptor, I fail to see why me having a belief in the arbitrary magic man of monotheistic religions is any more useful than me taking the antibiotics."

"Because, Bones," Booth said, shaking his head, as he ignored her entire commentary on geometry. "If you're wrong, you'll go to hell. Ya know, hell? H-E-double hockey sticks?"

"I'm not certain," she said with a thread of caution in her voice, "but if hell does exist, I think I'd rather spend eternity in hell than in a heaven where the only people who've been admitted are of one denominational faith—like the Mormons."

Booth raised his eyebrows, deep lines running across his forehead as he tried to follow her.

"I once spent a summer with several archaeologists from Brigham Young University," she explained. "And, they were all members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, and while they were all very nice and kind and polite people, I found them all to be quite odd. They smiled at me all the time, never acted in an upset or negative manner whatsoever, called me Sister Temperance the entire dig season, spent all their free time drinking non-caffeinated beverages, and played board games for an inordinate amount of time. And, not the mildly interesting, turn-by-turn strategic games, either. All their free time was spent playing idiotic mundane trivia games night after night. So, if those are the type of people I have to spend eternity with, while I'm sure they're very nice and happy people, I think I'd rather go to hell," Brennan finished. "At least, I feel fairly safe in saying, things would be more interesting there."

For a moment, Booth thought of that old Billy Joel song.

_They say there's a heaven for those who will wait  
><em>_Some say it's better but I say it ain't  
><em>_I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints  
><em>_The sinners are much more fun..._

A grin cracked across his face briefly as he thought about the night of his high school prom and the time he'd spent in the back seat of his Chevelle with his prom date, Linda Travis, and how that song had crackled across the radio while they were—_well_. _Heh, heh. What a night that was. She didn't mind it when I put my hand on her ass, either. Just like Bones. Hmmm_—_I wanna do that again, like now. Right now. But, not just her ass, I think. _Booth stared at Brennan and suddenly noticed how ripe and round her breasts looked in her blue tank top. _Yeah. I want to touch her tits, too. Now. Right now. Because groping Bones is cool. Yeah, __really__ cool. _

"Wait a minute, Bones," he said, as he tried to shift the conversation into a topic that would allow him to place himself in close physical proximity to Brennan once more so that he could reach out and cop another feel. "What are you trying to say? You 're not saying you don't want to go to Heaven if it mean being there with people like me? 'Cause, since I've always been such a good boy, I know I'm definitely going to heaven and not going to hell."

"If heaven and hell actually exist, there's no way for you to know that you're going to one or the other, Booth," Brennan said with a shake of her head.

"Uh huh," Booth nodded firmly. "There is, too."

"Oh, really?" Brennan retorted. "And, what is that?"

"Because I'm always a perfect angel," Booth said as he wagged his eyebrows at her. "So, now that we've got that out of the way, and since I know I'm _definitely _going to heaven, let's go back to talking about us, huh? Because I kinda thought we had a good thing going here, Bones. And, well, I mean, it's not quite like spending eternity with me, but I figured you, well, wouldn't mind spending eternity with me. I mean, I'm a good guy, and I'm a lot of fun, ya know. So you're saying you don't want to go to Heaven because there'll be people like me, and most importantly and most specifically me, there—?"

Sensing that Booth was saying something without saying it, Brennan sighed as she shook her head and said, "Let's be direct, Booth. I think the more accurate thing that you're trying to ask me, in your extremely convoluted and very roundabout way, Booth, is if I want to—what is the phrase? You want to know if I want to have 'Seven Minutes in Heaven' with you, isn't it?"

Booth arched an eyebrow at her and smiled. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off as she continued.

"Right, Booth. That's what you want to know, isn't it?"

"Maybe," Booth nodded. "And, what if it is, Bones?"

"Well," she countered. "If it is—" she paused and then smirked at him. "The answer is no."

Booth shrugged with a grin knowing that she was clearly lying. _You are such a liar, Bones. Liar liar, hot ass pants on fire._ "Well, that's a pity, because it'd be the best seven damn minutes of your life, Bones. I can just about guarantee that."

Brennan blinked at him several times and then narrowed her eyes. _He thinks I'm lying. Damn it. How does he know that I'm lying? _"While your arrogance is neither surprising nor unanticipated, given your monotheistic defense of the would-be savior born of a mother who gave birth to an illegitimate child, I'm sure that's one guarantee that you'd be unable to deliver on, Booth." She stopped, looked at him, and then nodded with a sly smile as she decided to twist the proverbial knife a bit. _Let's see what you can do with that one, right, Booth?_ "Yes, I'm fairly certain that not only would you _not _be able to deliver on it, but I wouldn't even need to worry about you potentially coming close to fulfilling your offer. So, it's really a moot point—"

"Oh," he said, leaning his head to the side. _This isn't a moot point. I didn't say it was a moot point, so it's not a moot point until I say so, huh. Fine. Game on. _ "So, right, Ms. Sciency Evidence lady. You can think that—"

"Oh, I do," she replied as she tilted her chin at him. "I _definitely _do."

"So then," Booth countered. "Ms. Queen of the Squints, do you want to test that theory of yours or what? Because without testing your little theory, it's no more true than the God Myth that you're always harping on me about, huh?"

"I don't think that's necessary, Booth," Brennan said with a quick shake of her head as she smiled at him. _What are you playing at, Booth_? She stopped, her head spinning a bit as some of the muted lights in the lab suddenly seemed very bright. Taking a deep breath, Brennan was hit with an overwhelmingly powerful male scent as she realized Booth's aftershave, deodorant and body odor had mixed together in a pungent scent that made her skin tingle a bit. _Fine_, Brennan thought in a very faraway and slow manner as compared with her normally quick thought processes. _Fine. But, let's see how far you're willing to go because there's no point if you're not going to make this thing worth my while. _"As a matter of fact, I'm fairly certain it's not."

"Wait," Booth said with a patient shake of his head. "Isn't science all about the search for knowledge? It doesn't have to be important, right, Bones? It's just the knowledge itself that is important."

"Yes," she agreed, suddenly not realizing why Booth seemed to know something about science that she didn't. _When did that happen? Because Booth isn't smarter than me_—_not at all. No. Nope. Nada. No._ "But, as such potential topics for research are endless, scientists have to prioritize." _Huh, that sounded pretty good. Now, if I only knew what in the hell I just said...but, wait. Why is Booth looking at me like that...especially looking at my tits like that? Huh..._ "And, anyway—like I was saying, right now, I see no reason I should prioritize you—because, frankly, I'm just not that interested." _Yeah, that's a lie_—_a blatant lie. But, let's see what he does with it._

Booth laughed. "_Riiigght_," he said with a sneer. "That's why you were checking out my ass when the guys from CDC were giving us those horrible pain in the ass shots."

"Oh, are we back to that one already?" Brennan said as she rolled her eyes. "I thought I already explained this, Booth. I was merely responding to your overture," Brennan explained. "You were the one that was taking a grossly and unnecessarily long time to pull your pants back up. It didn't take Dr. Goodman or Hodgins or Zach the same amount of time to re-dress themselves. So, you can hardly blame me when I take note of the deviation from the pattern of behavior established by the other males in the lab and take a quick peek at what was going on down there."

"_Heh,_" he chuckled. _Yeah, I've got something going on down there that you can check out anytime you want, Bones. So, yeah, but wait_— "Wait, Bones."

"Yeah, Booth?" Brennan blinked at him, her gaze softening a bit in a way that surprised Booth slightly given her snarky comments and normally snippy personality.

"Are you're saying you were watching Goodman, Hodgins and Zach pull down their pants?" Booth questioned as he made a face. "Because, well, if it was just me that you were checking out, like I said, I totally get that part since I have such a great ass, but you were checking all of us out, huh? Because, if that's true, it's kinda wrong, Bones. It's wrong on a number of levels because the other three squints are so _not _hot—no offense intended to them anyway, but none of them are like me, so yeah."

Rolling her eyes at him, Brennan shook her head as she realized she was making a habit of doing that where Booth was concerned. "I'm just observant, Booth," she replied. "You should try it some time." She paused and then added, "Besides, if anyone was checking anyone's ass out, I think we both know who it was, and it wasn't me."

"Are you saying that _Zach _was checking out my ass?" Booth arched an eyebrow at her. "Because if he was, you need to tell that Vulcan that I'm not really interested. He's not my type. In fact, if he was checking me out, I may just have to kick his ass."

Biting back a laugh, Brennan suddenly decided that she'd had enough of their banter stalling things. _If we're going to do something here, let's do it, Booth. What? Do you need some encouragement? Fine. _"Then, who is your type?" she asked, leaning into him just a bit. Her eyes had glazed over a bit as she tilted her head at him. "I only ask for scientific reasons, you understand. My question's purely for the sake of obtaining knowledge about this potential situation here, of course," she clarified.

"What 'potential situation' are you talking about here, Bones?" Booth asked with a smile. "Because I dunno what you mean, Bones. There isn't any potential situation here—is there?"

"I believe you were the one who insinuated that with enough time you could make it the 'best damn time' of my life," Brennan replied. "In fact, I seem to recall you _guaranteed _it."

"I did," he replied proudly. "And I stand behind that guarantee—but, that wouldn't matter to you unless you've changed your mind about testing out that little theory of ours, huh, Bones?"

"That depends, Booth," Brennan responded quickly.

"On what?" he countered.

"On the answers to my two questions," she told him with a firm nod.

Booth's face broke into a dopey grin as he considered her words. "Um, what two questions were those? I kinda lost track."

"First," Brennan said with her eyes narrowed at him. "Are you going to admit that _you _were the one that was checking out _my _ass...and that you liked it?"

He rolled his eyes as he shook his head. _I'm not admitting that until you tell me __you__ were checking __me__ out_. "Hey, Bones, we're not playing Jeopardy, but those sure sound like answers, not questions." He winked. "Or, like Caroline would say, you're leading the witness there."

_Fine, Booth_, Brennan thought. _I guess that answers my question then. You can't say I didn't try. _"Very well," she said, standing up. "Then, seeing as how it appears you have no intention of answering my first question, there's no reason for me to ask my second question. And, the answer to your question is that no, I apparently will not be changing my mind about testing out any Booth-related theories this evening despite a momentary consideration of the alternative. I will, however, be going to bed now." Brennan shrugged. "Goodnight, Booth," she said as she turned to walk past him on the platform.

_Wait. Where are you going? Are you leaving, Bones? Because, you can't leave. We're not done here, yet. _"Aw, come on, Bones," Booth said in a mocking plea. "You're the big brainiac mad lady scientist, but you're not being very brainiacical about this." He raised his eyebrows as he watched her walk away when his words apparently had no effect on her. _Oh, fuck, Bones. Fine. _ "I've been checking out your ass for a while now, Bones," he said, calling after her.

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Brennan stopped walking. She slowly turned around and looked at Booth. She arched an eyebrow at him.

He grinned back at her again. "That's right. Unlike some people, I can admit things when I have to, Bones. I've been checking your ass out for a while, I just can't believe you just figured it out." He stopped and then chuckled as he added, "What was the giveaway—my hands on your ass or what?"

"Yes," she nodded. "I would say that it not only was a giveaway when your hands were on my ass, but said 'checking out' extended to when you had your hands down my pants about twenty minutes ago, right?" She paused and then inclined her head at him as she asked, "Or, was that something different?"

"I was doing lab work, Bones." He grinned while giving her what he thought was quite a scientific explanation. "You know, as in hands-on analysis of the data."

"I'm unaware of what type of data can be gleaned from your hands on my ass, Booth," Brennan replied simply. "Care to share?"

"Well, I haven't, _uhhhh, _compiled all the figures yet, err, but it seems from the preliminary data that, yeah," Booth told her sheepishly. "But, you have a pretty nice ass there, Bones. Very tight and very fucking sexy. And, FYI, I'm _very _interested in gathering some additional data in order to, uhhh, to confirm those findings ASAP."

Brennan swallowed a smile as she considered his explanation. "So, would that be your way of answering my second question from earlier, Booth?" she asked.

Booth blushed a little, and felt like the boy in school who had been busted for not paying attention in class. "Uh, wait—what was the second question again, Bones?"

Taking a step towards him with a dangerous leer on her face, Brennan said, "I asked what your type was, Booth."

"Wait a minute," he said. "I thought the second question was whether I liked your ass after I checked it out. And, like ol' Caroline says, that one's already been 'asked and answered', Bones." Booth smiled, satisfied that he had won at least this set of his little game of tennis with Brennan.

She shook her head, closed her eyes and sighed in exasperation. "I know this is difficult, but try to keep up with me, Booth—"

"Bones," he said. "I have no doubt I can keep up with you—the real question is can _you _keep up with _me_?"

"Then, you would know that the inquiry about my ass was one question with two parts," Brennan told him. "The second, separate question that addressed an unrelated issue was the next question I asked. Now—" She stopped and placed her hands on her hips as she stared at him. "Do you want to answer that one or not?"

Booth blinked a couple of times as he tried to catch up with Brennan's wordiness and formulate an appropriate response. He ran his hand through his hair as he finally realized what she was asking. _Oh, right. Heh heh. I'm with you now, Bones._ "So, uhhh, you want to know if you're my type?"

"I didn't say that," she replied a bit too quickly with a sharp shake of her head. "I merely inquired as to the type of individual who qualified for classification and inclusion into that grouping."

"_Hmmm_," Booth said, scratching his head. "Gee, I guess, well, I guess I'd say I like hot, smart women." He let his voice trail off as he looked at her under heavy lidded eyes. He nodded and added, "Yeah, I'd say that's about right—hot, smart, women who've got really tight asses."

Brennan blinked at his words and then dropped her hands. Nodding at him, she said, "Good to know." She then smiled and said, "Night, Booth."

She barely took a step before Booth reached out and placed his hand lightly on her arm.

"Wait, Bones," he said quickly.

"Yes, Booth?" she replied, stopping since he was still touching her. _Wow, that feels really nice. But, what do I have to do to get you to touch more than just my arm, huh, Booth?_

"So what about that little, you know, experiment thingie we were talking about?" Booth nodded at her. " I mean, I answered your questions."

Tilting her head at him, she nodded, "Yes, yes, you _did _answer my questions."

"Well, then, there you go, Bones. I kept up my end of the bargain. So, what about you?" he asked expectantly, almost as if he were a child, expecting her to make good on a promise she'd made to reward him for good behavior.

"I didn't know we'd formally made any actual agreements, Booth," Brennan began. _But, wait, What the hell_—_maybe we need to...so, yeah. Why not?_

"What about wait there, Bones. You said that your interest in testing that guarantee depended on my answer to your two, well really three, questions. Your questions have been answered." Booth raised his eyebrows as he paused. "So how about answering mine?" he asked her.

"Okay," Brennan nodded. _This is getting way too complicated. It's time to simplify things._

"So, you wanna test that little theory of yours, Ms. Beaker?" Booth said.

Brennan blinked at him, clearly not understanding the Muppet reference.

"I don't know, Booth," she began. "I think that's my answer, too."

Making a face, Booth snorted, "That's no answer."

"Yes, it is, Booth," Brennan replied. "But, that's the beautiful thing of a conditional response—unless the conditions are met to my full satisfaction, I don't have to do something really foolish and blindly comply with anything you want me to do," she chuckled. _And, since we know __that__ won't be happening unless I know __exactly__ what I'm getting into ahead of time, well, yeah_— She then looked up at him and said, "Because, if I do that, then the next thing you know I'll be doing something really, really stupid like professing my belief in an omnipotent, omniscient deity."

"Ahh," he said. "I see how it is. Playing a little hard to get there, Bones?"

"No," Brennan immediately protested.

"Yes," Booth nodded. "You totally are."

"No, I'm not," she insisted.

"Yeah, you are," he said with a curt nod. "You _definitely _are, Bones, and well, that only leads to one thing—hard to get leads to hard up."

"I don't think there's anything hard around here, Booth," she stopped and then snickered, "Except for maybe your head—metaphorically, of course."

"Well," he said with a crooked grin. "I can assure you that, when the time comes to do that little experiment thingie, I'm doing my best to make sure all the necessary lab equipment is teed up, in good working order, and all ready to go once you give the word, Bones. So, we're just waiting on you, FYI—"

Brennan shook her head with a sharp laugh as she said, "You're _so _arrogant."

"Me?" he said, pointing his thumb at his chest. "You think _I'm _arrogant?"

"Yes, I do." Brennan shot him a mock glare. "Moreover, do you really think you can just prance up to my lab platform, wearing that hat, smile that smile of yours, and then you can get me to do your bidding, Booth?" she asked.

"Do my bidding?" He laughed loudly. "Hardly," he said with a quick shake of his head. "I can't get you to do crap. I never have, and I probably never will. I just made an offer to resolve a certain, well, uncertainty you seemed to be struggling with there, my little Dr. Sexysmarts."

"I can assure you," she replied, ignoring his compliment. "I'm not struggling with any conundrum about you, Booth, despite your prior claims that I'm in denial about anything related to that topic."

"If you're so certain, then why'd you let me touch your ass, Bones? I mean, any other guy who tried that would end up with a broken arm. Why are you so accommodating to me, huh?" He smiled as he stared into her eyes, nodded, and suddenly snapped his fingers. "Wait a second. Hold the presses, there. I've got it."

"Oh?" Brennan asked.

"Yup," he grinned. "And, here it is, Bones—you like me."

She smiled at him. "Not at all, Booth."

"You do, too, Bones," Booth said. "Admit it. You like me. You really like me—and you think I'm sexy as hell. So, come on...just say it. You know you want to—"

"No," Brennan chuckled. _You are sexy. But, if I tell you that, I'll never hear the end of it. Nope, never. So, I can't help you out on that one, there, Booth. _"None of that's true, Booth. I'm merely—" Her voice trailed off a bit before she gave him an evil smile in a flash of epiphany. "I'm just a very accommodating person. It's in my nature, really."

"Oh yeah," he snorted. "Very accommodating, huh?"

"Yes," Brennan nodded. "That's correct."

"So, you were just being real accommodating of that federal judge when you socked him in the nose, right?" Booth asked.

"Yes," she smiled. "That's right."

"You were so accommodating him, you did it twice, huh, Bones?" Booth closed one eye and looked at her hard with the other. "So, lemme ask you this: so if Goodman or Hodgins came around and put their hands down your pants, would you be equally accommodating to them?"

"Ha," Brennan retorted. "That's a good one, Booth. Quite amusing. But, since we both know they'd never actually behave in such a way. It's a moot point. Really, you're the only one who's arrogant enough around here to actually do that, Booth."

"_Huh_," he grunted. He narrowed his eyes and looked at her. "So, what you're saying is, you're pretty accommodating of my arrogant nature."

"Yes," she agreed. "I've a very thoughtful person that way, aren't I, Booth?"

"Yeah, you're just too sweet, Bones," he blinked at her and then narrowed his eyes in a hungry gaze. _Screw this. I've had enough of the cat-and-mouse games, Bones. If we're going to do something here, let's do it. _"So, if you're interested, I have some ideas about other ways you might be able to accommodate me—and, since you're so accommodating, I figure they won't be a problem, right, Bones?"

"Maybe," Brennan nodded. "It depends on what they are."

"So, would you like to discuss those accommodations, Bones?" Booth asked.

"I believe I'm already listening to you, Booth," she said with a shrug. "And, it's not like I've ever been able to shut you up when you wanted to say something before, so I think the answer is I'm 'all ears'—as the saying goes."

"Well," he began. "You know, 'cause being around you squinty types really has helped me better understand, you know, the sciency way you approach problems, I'd think it would be a really good idea, and I'd really like to do that experiment we were discussing earlier."

_Ahh, _Brennan thought. _So, there we are. Finally_. "If you want something from me, Booth, then just ask me," she said with a shake of her head.

Booth took a couple of steps toward her with a cocky smile on his lips and a distinct laughter in his eyes. "Well, hey, Bones. It's been a long time since I've been in school, ya know. And, well, I was kind of hoping you might be able to help me design this little experimenty thing. I mean, since you're the expert here."

"You want me to be your teacher, Booth?" she asked him tilting her head as she noted how he'd closed the personal space between them. "Is that it?"

"Well," he said, raising an eyebrow. "I have always had this fantasy about you and the whole sexy teacher thing, but for now, I was thinking we'd stick with the hypothesis I have that I really do think needs to be tested. And, as good as I am, I do know this is a two-person job, so I know I'm gonna need some help designing and doing the experiment..." _At least until we get to the part where I'm doing you. Heh._

"Fine," Brennan said, nodded, her eyes darkening as she took a breath before continuing. "Okay. Then, as your instructor, for the purposes of 'designing the experiment', the first thing you need to understand is that any valid experiment has a predetermined set of ground rules."

"How can you set the ground rules if you don't know what hypothesis I'm trying to test?" Booth suddenly asked.

She laughed at his words. "I believe you said I was the expert, Booth, so give me a little credit here, huh?" She then took a step towards him and tapped her index finger on the area of his chest near where his St. Christopher medal fell onto the white fabric of his undershirt. "Even if I don't know the specifics, I think I've got a pretty good idea about the topic which inspired your hypothesis. So—" She paused and then added, "Unless you really expect me to believe that your brilliant idea for a hypothesis doesn't relate to you getting to touch some part of my anatomy in fairly short order, I think we're good, right?"

Booth narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, it's something like that," he admitted. "So, does that mean you have an idea of how we can design a nifty experiment here?"

"Like I said, Booth," Brennan said. "Each valid experiment has a set of ground rules, or control if you prefer the more scientific terminology."

"I like control," he quipped.

"I'm sure you do," Brennan responded tartly. "Not that that's surprising to me in the slightest, by the way." She stopped and then asked, "So, do you agree?"

"Wait," Booth said, tensing a bit as he realized she might be tricking him into something. "What am I agreeing to? Because I'm not the type of schmuck who just signs his soul away on the dotted line without reading the terms of the deal, Bones. So, yeah, I agree that we need ground rules. But, first, what are they?"

"Well, I suppose that depends on how far you want to take this," Brennan said, swaying slightly in front of him. She blinked as some of the low lights from the lab caught her attention, sending a slight pain into her eyes again that made her blink a few more times before she pushed away the shininess. _Wow, those are kind of neat. I don't think I've ever realized how interesting the refraction is. Huh. _Focusing again on Booth, Brennan said in a huskier tone of voice than she'd meant to speak in, "How far do you want to go?"

_As far as we can take it, Bones_—Booth thought to himself. _And, then some. _"Well, in the interests of science and knowledge, Bones, I'm willing to go all the way." He stopped, paused, and added, "Are you?" He then didn't wait for her to respond before he grinned at her again as he said, "Besides, it's the Big Man's birthday, so it'll be fun to do something—well, festive, ya know?"

Rolling her eyes at him, Brennan suddenly felt as if he'd ruined the mood by mentioning religion again. Sighing a familiar sigh, she backed away a bit as she said, "Oh, here we go again. Why do you always have to bring up God, Booth? He doesn't relate to every damn situation in life."

"No," he acknowledged. "But, to be fair, the kind of experiment I'm thinking of, well, I think His name will come up while we're doing the lab work—at least, He will if we're doing what we're supposed to be doing. In fact, I'm pretty sure I can see you bringing His name up, Bones."

"Meaning?" Brennan asked, confused about the link between deities and sex that was apparently alluding her, but that Booth was apparently quite keen on.

He paused, glancing up to the steel framework above the platform and the braid of tiny lights that had been wrapped around the tubing. _Wow, those look like stars. Pretty twinkle twinkle, little star stars. How pretty. Like Bones. She's pretty. No, she's not just pretty. She's hot_—_so fucking hot. And, I bet she's even hotter when she's having sex. Yeah, I wanna know what she looks like then, right before she comes. I bet it's fucking beautiful. Oh, yeah_, _wait. That's right. She needs to scream before she can come and_— Suddenly, like the Grinch before he decided to steal Christmas from Who-ville, an evil grin twisted Booth's lips. _Now, __that's__ a brilliant friggin' idea. Heh heh. Alright_— "Okay, Bones, here it is," Booth began.

"I'm still listening, Booth," Brennan waited patiently.

"Okay," Booth said. "So, I bet I can get you to bring up God, Bones. I bet I can make you cry God's name, and I'm pretty sure I can get it done before the sun comes up in the morning."

"Now, _that _would be a Christmas miracle," Brennan snorted as she laughed at his words.

"Heh, well," he said with a smirk. "That's no miracle, Bones, because I'm me, and it's all a part of my mad skills, Bones. So, I know for a firm fact that I can guarantee I can get you to scream the name of God before breakfast tomorrow."

"No, you can't," Brennan said. "It'll never happen—no way."

"Okay," he said. "Well, prove it, Bones. So I have a hypothesis, and there it is. Now, it's time to put it to the test, so let's get on with the experiment. What are those ground rules, Ms. Senior Hot Squint, huh? Because that's what comes next, right?"

_Wait_, Brennan thought to herself. _If he thinks he can make me scream, that means we'll be doing something sexual when it happens, so that's a good thing. Say 'yes' right now, idiot! _Crossing her arms across her chest, she quickly nodded as she said, "Fine. In the interests of knowledge, fine."

"Is this your way of giving me the word then, Bones?" Booth laughed.

"As soon as we agree to the controls, Booth, yes," Brennan nodded. "You can consider the word given."

"Awesome," Booth said. "So, what are the terms?"

"You get three shots—three chances before morning, just to keep things realistic," she said. "When, where, how, and in what way is up to you," she explained. "But, if I climax, that means one of your turns is gone. Agreed?"

"Three at-bats?" he asked, noting the blank, non-plussed expression in her eyes at the reference. "Yeah, I can handle that," he nodded, ignoring her incomprehension of the sports metaphor. " Three tries, that's fine with me."

"And, after the third try when you fail, that means you won't lecture me about God or any aspect related to religion for at least three months...one for each time you fail," Brennan specified.

Booth looked at her skeptically. "So, wait—if I win, and get you to scream God's name, you win because, well, I got you to scream God's name when you came. If I lose, you still win, so I don't really see how that's at all fair, Bones."

"You never specified the experiment had to be fair, Booth," Brennan smirked. "You only implied that it needed to have a sexual component."

"I don't know, Bones," Booth shook his head. "The whole me not 'lecturing you on God'—and I don't lecture you, by the way, I just correct you when you're wrong like you are about religion, and always have been, too, while we're on the subject—"

"See?" Brennan said, interrupting him as she pointed her finger at him. "That's what I don't want to hear, Booth."

"But, it's true," he blinked at her. "And, if I'm going to let you swim in your self-delusions for a minimum of one month, and for as possibly as much as three months, that's a lot for me to give up and deal with so, I gotta ask, what else is in it for me here, Bones?"

"Fine," Brennan said, quickly trying to think of something that would tempt Booth. _Aside, from, you know, the fact that we'd be having sex, Booth, which I don't think is too bad for you. Hmmm._—_so if I get to come because of you, maybe I can counter with getting you to come? A blow job? Wait_—_no. If I do that, you'll just think I want you to boss me around, so no. That won't work. Hmmmm..._ After another minute, inspiration struck again as she said, "Okay, Booth, then how about this? You get me to scream your god's name, aside from bragging rights—"

"I don't brag," Booth interrupted her.

"_Riiiiggghhht_," Brennan said. "Well, whether you use them or not, you'd still have them." She stopped and then said, "And, besides that, I won't insult your religion or your god for the same amount of time that you'd have to shut up about religion if you win...three months if you get it on the first try, two months on the second, etc."

"I still don't see why that's a good deal for me," he said slowly contemplating her offer. "I mean, you shouldn't be insulting my religion, as a matter of common decency."

"Oh, whatever, Booth," Brennan sighed. She then leered as she noted how sexy he looked in his white undershirt. _Why do I think you'd look much better without that white shirt covering your torso's musculature, huh? Yeah. You need to take that off. Right now. You need to get naked right now, Booth, so hmmmm..._ "Who said I had common decency, anyway?" She muttered. "It's highly overrated." Seeing the fact that Booth was still unimpressed, she tried again. "Fine, then how about this—I'll write a check in a significant amount to donate to the religious institution of your choice in your name. How about that?"

"Hmmmmm," Booth murmured, wondering whether he would have fewer Hail Marys to say if the conduct which he was having to confess led to a generous contribution to the diocese. He chased the thought away with a shake of his head. "You'd really do that?"

"Of course," Brennan said. "Especially since it won't be necessary. But, you have my word in the slim possibility that you actually do manage to pull of things like you think you can, Booth."

Frowning, her partner responded, clearly latching onto her earlier mutterings, "If you don't have common decency, what good is your word, anyway, Bones? The answer is, it's not. It's squat, so I don't know how I feel about this whole thing—" _Except that I'm really sick of talking, and hearing you talk, and I'd just like to get naked with you. Immediately, if not sooner. Because I need to touch your ass...and your tits. I haven't forgotten about those, by the way. Those are gonna be first on my priority to-do list as soon as I get your shirt off of you. Off the shirt goes, straight to your tits go my hands. Just FYI, especially since I know they're going to be so fucking awesome_—

Pursing her lips together, she snapped, "Now that's just a lousy thing to say, Booth." Shaking her head at him, she said, "You know what, you can say a lot of things about me, but I've never been disingenuous or dishonorable. So, you know what? I think maybe you can just take your dumb ass experiment idea and shove it—"

"Okay, okay," he said, holding his hands up when he realized he'd hit a nerve. "You were the one that said you didn't have common decency, but anyways, you're right—you've never been dishonest with me—"

"Or anyone," Brennan cut him of sharply.

"Right," he said with a shrug. _Sorry? All better now? _"So, look, do we have a deal?"

"Not unless you apologize for making that asinine comment," she said with a firm shake of her head, clearly still offended by his words. _There's no way you're getting near me if you think I'm a liar, Booth. What the hell? Where did that even come from anyway?_

Sensing she was genuinely hurt and that her anger wasn't just a by-product of their flirt-bickering, Booth immediately felt a tad guilty. Nodding at her, his face softened as he tried to appease her ire. "I'm sorry 'bout that, Bones," he said, reaching out and putting his hand on her forearm. "It was a crappy thing to say. Sorry, Bones."

"I _don't _lie, Booth," she scoffed.

"And I said I'm sorry," he said, a slight edginess creeping into his voice. "I'm sorry. I apologize."

"Yes, you apologized, but how do I know you didn't really mean it?" Brennan retorted, a small amount of indignant hurt still clear in her eyes. "How do I know that, huh?"

"Are you challenging _my _honesty and integrity now, Bones?" he replied. _This is not going to get us to the naked part if we start arguing for real here. So..._ Running his free hand through his hair, Booth flashed her a smile as he said softly, "Look, why don't we just both acknowledge that we're both honest, decent people here, alright?"

"The definition of common decency as you employ it does not necessarily have a mutual exclusivity with honesty, Booth," she said. "And, if you were ever fortunate enough to benefit from some of my close, personal supervision in certain learning situations, you'd find that was actually a benefit when compared to some people who are quite hypocritical in certain aspects of their lives." She stopped and then added, "I believe you'd find me to be _quite _uninhibited as a matter of fact."

"Well," he said with a wicked grin. _She's talking about uninhibited behavior, and we all know that's code for sex. Amazing, mind-blowingly fucking hot sex. Wait...that's redundant. Wait...who gives a shit. Game on. Ha! _ "You know I'm a creative, resourceful guy with a good gut sense. I think you'll find that to be the case in all parts of my life, Bones."

"I suppose we'll just see about that," she said as she frowned at him and took a step closer. Raising her hand to his head, she reached up and let her fingers trace the skin of his neck until it reached the elf hat and yanked it off. Tossing it on the ground, she took a step closer and wrapped her hands around the back of his head. "I'm still angry with you, just so you know."

"I'm sure you'll get over it," he said in a low voice, tilting his head a little and looking at her with dark, heavy-lidded eyes.

"We'll see," she said, taking a moment to press her body up against his before she let her hands fall away, and she stepped backwards. "Well just see about that."

"Game on, Bones," Booth nodded at her with a lascivious glint in his eyes. "Game fucking on."

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><p><strong><em>To be continued<em>**

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><p><em>Well, folks. That was Part I. Kinda sexy and, well, a little festive. Bit of a long chapter, but hopefully worth it.<em>

_So everyone likes a little bit of stoned!Booth like we saw in 1x09 (because he was so cute and funny in that episode) but we never got to see how that antifungal cocktail affected Brennan. Well, because we believe it our solemn duty to give you folks what HH and Company left out, we wanted to offer a peek at what stoned!Brennan would've looked like that night and, well, what might've happened if a stoned!Booth and stoned!Brennan collided in a quiet, dark lab._

_So, Part II will bring us the first part of the challenge. Who's playing checkers and who's playing chess? Wouldn't you like to know? Of course you do. So, you w__anna see how this goes? You really do, because we've got all sorts of festive tingle waiting for you, plus extra bonus moments of fetish (heh, anyone wanna see us riff on Booth's five seconds of pull-ups?) thrown in for good measure, naughty elves and other sorts of holiday cheer. But you've gotta be nice before we can give you the naughty, okay?_

_You know what to do. __Click that little review button down there. __Yes, that's the one. _

_Please. In the spirit of the holidays. __Let us know what you think._


	11. 11—Spreading Holiday Joy, Pt II

**A Very Bad Idea  
><strong>**By****:** dharmamonkey & Lesera128  
><strong>Rated<strong>**: **M

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><p><strong>Disclaimer<strong>**: **Ummm, nope, we still don't own anything. We have, however, apparently become squatters in the sandbox that we crashed... so, umm... yeah. There we go

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><p><strong><span>AN:** _Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed so far. For those who haven't left a review, please feed our fragile egos by letting us know what you think. Fanfic pays pretty crappy. All we get is psychic revenue. Please furnish us some of that psychic revenue. Pretty, pretty please._

**UNF Alert****: **_Why, yes, unfness continues! Hurray! Please note: the authors are not responsible for small house fires, ammunition cook-off, hot flashes, inconvenient episodes of full-body blushes, unexplained sweating or premature labor triggered by reading this type of epic unfness._

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><p><strong>III. Spreading Holiday Joy, Part II<strong>

**Pertinent Details on Scenario #3****: **Set during the episode 1x09: "The Man in the Fallout Shelter."

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><p>The soft echo of Booth's pronouncement hung between the pair as Brennan stared at her partner and he looked back at her in anticipation. Booth licked his lips as he watched her, a sudden nervous energy vibrating off of him like a racehorse confined at the starting gate before the opening bell had rung. After the two of them continued to stare at one another in heavy silence for a minute or two, each one lost in the swirl of his or her own thoughts, finally Brennan had had enough of waiting. Curious to see what he would actually do—since saying one thing and actually doing it were often two very separate things—she decided to take the initiative.<p>

Glancing at one of the chairs they'd abandoned earlier, Brennan walked over, sat down, and looked at him expectantly. "So?" _First move's to you, Booth_—_so, let's see what you'll actually do. _

Quite pleased that Brennan didn't seem to be backing down from the terms of the agreement they'd set, Booth felt a warm buzz began to build in both his mind and body. _Ahhhh soooo, grasshopper. That is the important question, isn't it? So...so what? So how? So who? So, so, so...ho...ho...ho! Just like Santa. I'm just like Santa because I'm gonna give you the bestest fucking orgasm you've ever had, and then since I'm such a good boy, and I've been such a very good boy this year, I won't feel guilty that I got my own gift early this year because the number one thing on my Christmas wish list from Santa says 'Play with Bones' tits.' And, that means time's a wasting so, I need to get started, and what better place to start then to start with her tits_—_since it's just as good to give as it is to receive_—_and that sounds like fun, yeah, so I think I'm gonna start there, so_—

"So," he said with a very sly smile, taking the seat next to her as his eyes flashed to the top of her tank top. "Are you gonna do something if I try to touch you this time since you didn't before?" Booth leaned into her, clearly invading her space as he let his warm breath fall across her cheek. "Do you have some kinda delayed reaction teed up for me that I need to know about or what? Because I'd hate to get started here and then have to worry about you trying to break my arm or something—" He stopped, lowered his voice again, and gave her a cocky smile as he added, "Unless you're into the rough stuff, and then that's a different matter altogether." He wagged his eyebrows at the last statement, obviously quite pleased with himself.

Staring at him for a few seconds, Brennan considered his words. The idea of tackling Booth on the platform ripping his clothes off but for the the silly elf hat he was wearing _did_ have a certain appeal. However, since he was the one who seemed quite pleased with taking the lead on things, she was content to let him set the pace of how this was going to go since, in addition, she was still curious to know how far he'd actually take it. "I thought you knew by now—if I didn't want you to touch me, believe me, you wouldn't even have the opportunity to ask me that question," Brennan said as she stared at him, her pupils dilating with curiosity as she waited to see what his next move would be.

Smacking his lips happily, Booth nodded and began to hum softly to himself. For some reason, the dulcet tones of Alvin, Simon, and Theodore bounced around in his head as he stared at Brennan's chest, his head bobbing slowly to the beat. It seemed that something in the memory of the song's chorus—distracted slightly by the sight of her chest before him, combined with the fact that he knew he now had permission to touch it if he actually wanted to—caused Booth to start murmuring his own version:

"_Christmas, Christmas time is near  
><em>_Time for sex and time for cheer  
><em>_I've been good, but I can't last  
><em>_Hurry Christmas, hurry fast  
><em>_I want you naked right damn now  
><em>_Me, I want to touch your boobs  
><em>_I can hardly stand the wait  
><em>_Please Christmas, don't be late."_

Tilting her head at him as she picked up on the absurdity of his words, Brennan shook her head, smiled and asked, "Booth?"

"Yes, Bones," he replied, never breaking beat with the song he heard in his head, as he continued to bob slightly as he looked at her in a very concentrated way, whistling the tune through his teeth.

"Why are you singing?" she suddenly asked, unable to contain her curiosity any longer. "I didn't think this little experiment of ours had a component that required the singing of lewd Christmas carols."

His eyes darting up to meet hers, he gave her a silly smile as his whistling fell silent. "I'm just setting the mood here, Bones," Booth said. "Just setting the mood."

"And, does 'setting the mood' require the observance of any other holiday festivities, Booth?" Brennan blinked. "I mean, since what we're really talking about is you getting in _the _mood, aren't we?"

Booth blinked at her a couple of times and then said, "Wait..wait. You just asked me a question."

"Yes," Brennan nodded.

"And what was it?" Booth said with one eyebrow arched and the other furrowed as he shook his head. "Cut me some slack here and just tell me what you asked without all that squintspeak crap getting in the way. I know it had something to do with sex, but I'm not sure what it was."

"Ahh," Brennan replied indulgently. "Okay. I was merely insinuating that perhaps while you were enthusiastic about the start of our experiment—since we're apparently really using that as code to refer to the impending sexual encounter—"

"_Encounters_, Bones," Booth said, clearly emphasizing the plurality of her vocabulary choice. "That's encounters with an 's.'"

Smiling at him, Brennan nodded. "My apologies," she said with feigned penitence. "You're correct. The terms of the experiment do say that you get three opportunities to make me scream God's name, so technically that _may _equate to more than one sexual encounter, as in plural. Right. Sorry."

"Damn straight," Booth nodded. He was already looking forward to using all three of his at-bats, and the idea of losing out on any one of those opportunities seemed too grim to even consider. _I can't guarantee that I'll hit it out of the park and have you hollering the name of the Divine on the first or second try, Bones, but I can guaran-fuckin'-tee you that you'll come, each and every time, by the time I'm done touching you._

"Of course," Brennan ruminated with a sly smile. "The other way to look at my faux pas is to consider the fact that maybe I meant it as a compliment, Booth."

"Meaning?" _What the fuck did you just say, Bones?_

"Meaning," she replied, "that maybe I thought you only needed one attempt to actually achieve the goal you set for yourself as the overall purpose of this experiment."

Booth considered her words and then slowly shook his head. "Yeah," he said with a snort. "Nice try, Bones. But, somehow I don't think so. Whether you're so 'accommodating' or not, I don't see you giving me the benefit of the doubt in that sense, so yeah."

"Fine," Brennan said with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. "Fine. Believe what you want. You always do."

"Uh huh," Booth nodded, quite proud of her words. "That's right."

"So, anyway, Booth—" Brennan quickly said, trying to steer her partner's five-second attention span back to her original question. "Back to my original question."

"You squints certainly love playing Twenty Questions, don't ya, Bones?" he said. "Which question was that again? Since I've already forgotten about the last dozen or so you've asked—"

"I asked," she said, narrowing her eyes and shifting her tone a bit. "If there was anything else you needed to do to get in the mood since this is really about us having sex, isn't it?"

"As long as you scream God's name, I have no problem with that last thing there, Bones," Booth grinned as he squirmed a little in seat as he felt a tingle in his groin at the thought of having sex with his partner. "_Hmmm, _although, maybe if that's gonna happen I need to have _you_ wear the elf's hat, huh?"

"And why's that?" Brennan asked. "Do you have some heretofore unknown sexual fetish involving headgear of which I was unaware, but that you'd like to confess to me?"

"Nope," Booth grinned. "I just think that naughty elves are sexy."

"Setting aside the fact that elves are mythical creatures from the Germanic cultural tradition that were often depicted as having magical powers," Brennan said as she paused and made a face. "I'm not certain that I recall there ever being a literary tradition of sexy elves."

"The elves in _ElfQuest _are sexy," Booth said with a knowing nod. "The female elves in there are crazy hot. Some of them ride wolves, too." He looked up and away for a moment, somehow managing to ignore the twinkle of the holiday lights as he remembered the last time he was at the comic shop and thumbed through one of the early _Elfquest_ volumes admiring the way the artist had drawn the big-eyed, buxom, buckskin-clad heroine and how she—

"_ElfQuest_?" Brennan asked, jerking him out of his recollection. "And that is—?"

"A graphic novel," Booth explained with a crooked grin. "A very _mature _series of graphic novels intended for adults, Bones."

Trying to keep a smirk from coming onto her face, she managed to reduce the physical manifestation of her desire to tease him to a slight twitch of her lips as she said, "Do you mean a comic book series, Booth?"

"No, Bones," he said with a frown and a shake of his head. "If I'd meant comic books, I would've said comic books. Graphic novels are very different from simple comic books, I'll have you know. As I think I've explained before, Bones, they are much more complex and awesome in their storytelling and—"

"So, apparently ones like this _ElfQuest _contain...how did you put it—'sexy elves?'" Brennan asked.

Flushing a bit, Booth then let his embarrassment segue into an easy amusement as he said, "Well, there are lots of types of elves, Bones. Santa has his cute and cuddly hardworking elves—"

"Keeping in mind that the notion that Santa Claus was assisted in his toy-making endeavors by said elves only because the idea was perpetuated in _Godley's Magazine _in the 1870s in the U.S.," Brennan noted. "I don't believe that Santa's elves are supposed to be considered 'cute and cuddly' in their outward appearance, Booth."

"Oh, God," he muttered. "So, wait, are we back to slaughtering the Christmas spirit, huh?"

"I'm just saying—" she replied defensively.

"Nope," Booth cut her off, shaking his head. "No way. You are just going to have to take my word for it on this one, Bones. Real or not, there are lots of types of elves...cute and cuddly types, sexy types, and sometimes—if you're _real _lucky, you might just happen to get a cute and cuddly and sexy elf, like me." He cocked his head, stuck out his tongue and waggled it. "Pointy ears are optional."

"Ahhh," Brennan said, a look finally dawning on her face as she said. "I see, now."

"What?" Booth asked with only one of his eyes narrowed at her.

"Well, before I explain, let me just make certain we're on the same page here, Booth," his partner told him mischievously. Booth took his turn to roll his eyes at her as she then continued. "You do want to have sex with me, correct?"

Looking at Brennan for several seconds, Booth blinked and then automatically responded. "Fuck yes," he said, uncertain for a few seconds if he'd merely thought the response or had actually said it until he saw her small smile widen slightly.

"I thought as much," she nodded at him. "So, the next question is...are you going to continue wearing that elf's hat while we do that, Booth?"

Slowly, tentatively, Booth leaned in further towards her. Closing the gap between them, he gave her a toothy grin as he said in a husky tone, "Do you want me to?"

"It's completely up to you," Brennan replied as she looked down and watched him as he reached out and let his hands sneak underneath the fabric of her blue tank top.

Booth didn't pull the fabric aside when his hand made contact with the silky fabric, but he did let his fingers slide underneath the lace bodice as he explored the objects of his intense fascination and eager desire. When he realized that there was nothing impeding his access as his fingers touched the smooth skin of the top of her breast, he smiled at her with a silly, lopsided grin.

"You aren't wearing a bra," he observed happily.

Biting her lip, as Brennan felt a muted sense of excitement that had been faintly present since the beginning of their entire conversation grow subtly stronger, her voice grew a bit faint as she said, "I was earlier. I took it off when I thought I was going to sleep."

"And, why did you do that again?" Booth said as he arched an eyebrow at her. "This isn't your way of telling me you planned to seduce me from the very beginning of this crazy Christmas from Hell is it, Bones?" _Because you might just be an evil, evil woman, the kind of evil, black magic-wielding woman that ol' Carlos Santana had in mind when he wrote that one song, but I just don't think you're quite devious enough to have planned this kind of thing all along. You're bad, Bones, but not that good._

Laughing at his words, Brennan shook her head slightly. "Would that I was that Machiavellian, Booth," she told him. "The simple fact of the answer is that, although I'm sure you're not aware of this—unless you have some women's lingerie fetish you aren't forthcoming about—"

"Now, hey," Booth interrupted, straightening up in his chair. "What is it with you and the insinuations of me having all these kinky fetishes? I'll have you know that I don't need any of those weird out crappy things in my sex life, thank you very much, because my sex life isn't crappy. Ergo, because of my sexual awesomeness, I'm quite good with just the plain ol' 'guy, girl, and a bed' scenario, Bones."

"Hmmm, well," Brennan observed. "Since beds are somewhat scarce, given our current physical locality, then perhaps you'll be more challenged than you'd originally anticipated by the strictures of our experiment, Booth."

"That's okay, Bones," Booth grinned. "I think you'll see I'm quite resourceful when I wanna be. And, for the purposes of our experiment, 'bed' can be very loosely defined."

"Well, then, it's a good thing I took my bra off, right?" Brennan asked, still feeling Booth's fingers gently rub small circles on the top of her breasts. The feeling was gentle and quite subtle, but very enjoyable in the rhythmic feeling of his intimate touch. "I mean, I didn't do it as a part of some grand plan to seduce you, I just took it off because they're not very comfortable to sleep in, Booth."

"But you're not sleeping," he countered. He then shook his head as he said, "I still don't know if I'm buying the accidental-experiment-seduction thing, here, Bones." He let his fingers move from the top of her breast a bit closer to the soft skin near her areola, but hadn't quite moved to touch her nipple as he continued his ministrations. "So far, it seems as if it's looking more and more like you planned to take advantage of me in my weakened state, ya know?" _And, frankly, if this is the kind of abuse you intend to subject me to, then maybe I should let you take advantage of me more often, because this is pretty wicked awesome at the moment._

"First, I didn't think anyone would be awake when I came out here," she murmured as she observed how she was becoming increasingly distracted by the feel of Booth's slightly calloused fingertips on her skin. "Especially you."

"Lucky for you, like I've said before, I'm full of surprises," Booth said, his eyes riveted to her chest. _ I really think I could do this all night. Actually, there's no way I could do this all night. This is great, but we're gonna have to start kicking the can down the road a little here, Bones. Keep things moving here. _ "And second?" he prompted.

"Second," she continued. "You sound sort of like you're adverse to the idea of me taking advantage of you—if indeed that's what happened here." She blinked, waiting for his reaction, then quickly added, "and it's not by the way."

"Nope," Booth said, suddenly tired of hearing her talk about people seducing other people and people getting taken advantage of, but nothing actually happening beyond him copping a feel of her breasts in much the same way he'd groped her ass earlier. "I'm so totally not against the idea of you taking advantage of me, or me taking advantage of you, as long as _someone _is taking advantage of someone pronto, I'm all for it, Bones." Leaning forward a bit, he raised his other hand to her other breast and then moved with deliberate action. Using both of his hands, he pushed the tank top down at the same time he reached inside and lifted her breasts out. The elasticity of the tank top's material allowed for him to achieve his goal with remarkable precision. Allowing her breasts to rest on the stiff line created by the resistance of the tank top's straps against her shoulders, they stood firm and proud at attention for him. Licking his lips in almost abject anticipation, his glazed eyes danced brightly as he finally brought them up to looked once more into hers.

"What are you...a C-cup?" Booth inquired. "I gotta ask."

"Why?" Brennan could barely managed to squeak out the single-word response. The high pitch of her voice hurt even her ears, and she flushed in embarrassment at how much Booth had already affected her merely by touching her breasts when they hadn't even kissed yet or, done anything else, for that matter.

Shrugging his shoulders slightly, he explained with a sheepish look, "I've just always wanted to know—what's your size?"

"Does it matter?" she said, barely able to breathe as she saw Booth's eyes locked once again on her chest, but quite pleased with herself as she managed to control the pitch of her voice.

"_Naaaw, _not really," he replied. "Like I said, I'm just curious. I mean...I think they're about a C...a very full C, mind you, but they're not quite big enough to be a D, I think." To illustrate his point, he placed both of his palms directly over her exposed breasts and gently cupped them. Bouncing them up and down in the palms of his hands, almost as if he were weighing ripe pieces of fruit, Booth had a studious look on his face as he said, "Yeah, full-C, I'd say."

"Booth?" she managed to mutter, again her voice barely no more than a whisper.

"Yeah, Bones?" Booth answered, not even bothering to move his eyes from where they'd stayed glued to his hands on her tits.

"Booth, why are your hands on my breasts?" she finally croaked.

_That _particular question did get his attention, as he looked up at her and gave her a look that seemed to say 'are you kidding me.' He blinked at her several times before he finally said, "Do I really need to explain the finer points on that one to you, Bones?"

"I was just curious—"

Brennan's words were cut off as his hands dropped from her chest. Clucking his tongue at her, he wagged a finger and gave her a cheeky grin of chastisement. "_Tsk, tsk, tsk, _Bones." He looked up and away reflectively. "Huh," he murmured. "Obviously, I'm not doing things right here, and that means I'm never gonna get you shouting the Almighty's name, unless we turn off that scientific method thing you do, so, hmmmm..."

"Booth?"

"Quiet, Bones," he said, scratching his chin pensively. "I'm thinking here."

"But—"

"No 'buts,'" he retorted. "I'm not giving you any theoretical make-ups for days you missed in sex ed, huh? This _is_ an experiment, after all—so all explaining will be done by demonstration only." Booth stopped and then grinned. "After all, I do much better when I can _show _instead of tell, right?"

"Fine," Brennan nodded. "I was just uncertain when you became such the expert on the comparative physiology and morphology of female mammary glands."

Tilting his head, Booth's smile widened as he said, "Not all of them, Bones. Just yours." He stopped, leaned in, and puffed a slight breath of warm air on each dark pink nipple trying to tease it into standing at attention for him. The first breath wasn't enough to achieve much of the effect he was after, but when he pushed his head a bit closer and breathed over each nipple a second time, he chuckled when he observed the response he was finally after as his moist breath was enough to cruelly tease her in exactly the way he'd intended from the very beginning. _Yeah, that's it, baby._

"Better," he murmured with a nod. "Much better." He licked his lips and then brought his hands back to her breasts. Palming them once more, he gave each breast a very gentle squeeze.

Brennan felt stars start to peek at the edge of her field of vision as her heart rate increased and the steady hum of energy she'd felt began to blossom into a full-fledged arousal. "Booth—" she murmured.

"Shush, Bones," Booth rebuked her lightly, completely enthralled with her chest. "I'm working here."

"But, Booth—"

"Seriously, Bones," Booth said, his voice becoming firmer. "I need to see what I'm working with here, so pipe down over there, and lemme get on with getting on about things, huh?"

"And, this will do that how?" she managed to utter, although they both knew she was doing it not because she wasn't acutely aware of how Booth's efforts constituted his initial offering in what was to be their foreplay. No, in reality, Brennan had asked the question just to make things more difficult for Booth since that was one of her most favorite past times in which she delighted the most.

"Give me about sixty seconds, and you'll see, Bones," Booth chuckled. "But, first, like I said, I gots to see what I'm working with here. This whole little experiment is supposed to be about finding stuff out, right? It's all to gain knowledge, but, one teeny tiny little point that you neglected to mention is that since knowledge is power, what this thing really is about is who—"

"You think you can use your knowledge of my breasts to exert some type of power in what way exactly?" she suddenly asked, a distinct snippiness in her tone.

"_Tits_, Bones," Booth interrupted her with a small shake of his head as he ignored her other pertinent point about power and control. "When I'm here playing with them like this, since I'm still trying to decide whether it's more fun to ogle and fondle them or maybe fondle and suck on them, but either way, they're_ tits,_ so get it right," he told her.

Rolling her eyes, Brennan said, "And, any idea when you might decide to go on to that second part there, Booth?"

Grinning lewdly at her, Booth arched an eyebrow as he said, "The second part being?"

"Something about you sucking my tits?" she gave him a pointed gaze as she said the word.

Booth felt his mouth go dry as soon as the single word was out of her mouth. _Fuck, that's hot_, he told himself. _She seriously wants me to suck her tits? _he mused, the question suddenly echoing through his hazy mind. _That's so fucking hot, _he thought."Say that again," he told her. Again, Booth wasn't certain if he'd merely thought the words or actually verbalized the thought since his ability to maintain an inner monologue was apparently becoming more and more compromised as the evening progressed.

Smiling at him in a very sexy way, Brennan tilted her head as she said, "Say what again, Booth? 'Tits'?"

"Yeah," he nodded at her. "That**," **he said somewhat breathlessly. _Say it again. And tell me what you want me to do to those amazing tits of yours. Tell me. _Booth felt a twinge in his groin as his nostrils flared, despite his best efforts at concealing the full extent to which seeing her this way, and hearing her talk this way, drove him wild.

"Hmmm...what would you like to me say, precisely, Booth?" Brennan grinned at him.

"Ummm," he began, giving her another toothy grin. "How about the part about you telling me what you wanted me to do to them?"

"Ahhh," Brennan nodded. "I think that would be something about you wanting me to say that I might be very interested in you sucking on my tits?"

"Yeah," he nodded solemnly. "That's it." _Definitely. That's it. Because I've been a very good boy this year, Santa. And I really, really deserve the chance to suck on those fantastic tits of hers. Right now. I've been very nice this year, so it's only fitting that I get my chance to be very naughty. With her. Tonight. So, if that happens, maybe_—_just maybe this won't be the worst Christmas ever, after all._

"Do you find it pleasing when I speak like that, Booth?" Brennan blinked at him as she tried to maintain an innocent facade, but wondered if she was failing as miserably as she felt she was. _Innocent? Who am I kidding?_

"Yeah," he nodded again. _You bet your sweet ass I do. Now. Right now. Because_— "It's pretty hot."

"And, would it help to get you to make a decision about either groping my tits or sucking on my tits more quickly if I kept talking like this?" Brennan asked, trying desperately to maintain a straight face.

"It might, Bones," he said with an amiable nod. "At the very least, I don't think it could hurt."

"I see," she nodded. Then, Brennan finally allowed the evil smile, the one that had been threatening to show itself for some time, to fall across her face. Staring at him for a few seconds, she asked, "You know, Booth. While I can appreciate you wanting to hear me talk about how much I'd like to feel you wrapping that wet tongue of yours around my nipples, I'm not certain if I should comply with your request."

At the image her words painted, Booth felt his semi hard on get harder. "And why's that, Bones?"

"Because," she said with a very matter-of-fact shrug. "I think it might be giving you too much of an insider's advantage. In effect, it would be giving you knowledge that you don't possess about what might sexually arouse me the most out of things you might try to do in a random trial and error process—"

"Oh, fine," Booth grumbled, the annoyance clear in his voice. "But, just so we're clear, I liked it better when you were talking about me sucking your tits instead of you lecturing me about all that other boring insider trading crap."

Taking a very slow breath, one that she knew caused her chest to expand and made her breasts seem even perkier than they already were—not an easy thing to do consider they fact that the tank top had kept them in taut attention as they were ready and waiting for Booth once he'd made up his mind as to what he'd like to do—Brennan smiled as she said, "Are you sure about that? Because, even if I was being wordy about it, talking about sexual arousal—especially _my _sexual arousal—can only be a good thing."

Shaking his head with a sharp huff, Booth suddenly grumbled, "I think we're talking too much here, Bones."

"Well, I'm not the one who hasn't made his move," Brennan said wryly. Glancing from him to her chest and back again, she chuckled, causing her tits to shake in response, as she observed, "I believe I'm more than ready whenever you are, Booth."

"I'm still trying to decide what I wanna do first, Bones," he said, licking his lips in anticipation, letting his tongue slide along his lips slowly enough to tease Brennan a little. "_Mmmmph_," he grunted, his face alight with appreciation. "There's just so many good ideas—"

"Like what?"

"Well," Booth said. "That idea of using my mouth on you isn't too bad, but I'm still not sure whether I wanna use my hands or mouth to play with you."

"Do I get a vote?" Brennan asked as she nodded at him.

"No," he said firmly. "This isn't a democracy, Bones, it's a dictatorship where I'm the one who's in charge, so remember...this is _my_ experiment. You're just assisting, remember?" Booth paused and then looked up at her, "But just FYI, in case you're curious, I'm leaning towards hands."

"Why?"

Booth lifted his hands so that his fingers pressed lightly on the top of each breast. Brennan hissed a bit as he lightly pressed his fingers into them and watched in delight as the skin bounced back from the imprint of his fingers. "Two reasons, really: A) because I wanna see what I can do with my hands before I escalate things to the oral stage and B) because they feel freakin' _awesome_, Bones."

"You touching me like that isn't going to be enough to get me to scream God's name, Booth," Brennan said, watching him curiously and forcing herself to keep from moaning in pleasure as he continued to play with her tits. "Just FYI," she said with a quiet snort, echoing his own words. "I think I feel fairly safe in saying your best opportunity might be in skipping straight to the oral part you mentioned."

"Patience, Bones," he murmured. "Patience. All good things come to those who wait, right?"

"Your call," Brennan said with a small shrug as she felt her heart begin to pound in her chest and wondered whether Booth could feel it. "But, I do believe that delayed gratification, in certain circumstances, can be highly overrated."

"True, true," Booth agreed. He stopped, and then playfully nodded at her as he said, "But, if it would make you feel any better, if you want to keep talking about oral sex, I have no objection to that, Bones."

"What?" Brennan replied. "Is this the part where you want me to say that I might have more than a slight interest in you going down on me, Booth?" _Because that would be a significant understatement, _she said to herself_._

Narrowing his eyes, Booth swallowed once as he contemplated the image of his head between her creamy white thighs. _Goddamn she's evil. I mean, I knew that. But, knowing it and then __knowing__ it are two very separate things. She's an evil, evil cocktease._

"I don't know, Bones," he managed to say, despite how dry his throat felt. "But, if this is your way of asking me if I've gone down on a woman before, made her come, and then lapped up every damn bit of her afterwards, the answer is yes." He stopped, smirked to himself, and although he didn't let his hands fall away from her breasts, he used his fingers to emphasize his points as he said, "And I'm pretty fucking awesome at doing it, too."

"You sounds awfully sure of yourself there, Booth," Brennan hissed through clenched teeth. _Fuck, he's so damn sexy when he gets so cocksure like that_—

"I am," Booth said with a wink. "And, with good reason, I can promise you, Bones." He stopped and then grinned at her again as he added, "Of course, if you're a very, _very _good girl, you might just find that out for yourself." He paused, narrowed his eyes and raised his chin as he smirked at her. "But first things first—"

Moving his palms in a side-to-side motion over the bottom of her breasts, Booth continued playing with them as if he'd been presented with some wonderful new toy. Oblivious to the world around him for a few minutes, he continued to caress, stroke, and tease every inch of her tits from the heavy softness of each bottom to the light pink sensitive skin of the tips of her nipples. Although she wouldn't admit it to him, each time he brought his mouth close to her breasts, but didn't actually make contact, she started to feel the lingering buzzing in her stomach begin to slowly ripple throughout her pelvic region. At last, Brennan couldn't take it anymore when Booth sat eyeing her chest and was mumbling to himself before she pounced.

"I mean, they're pretty good as far as tits go," he'd been saying. "Not the best, but a you've got a pretty solid set, Bones. Oh, yeah, sure, they could be just a little bit bigger, and then they'd be perfect—I mean, they _are _damn near perfect as is, but if they were just a little bigger, it really couldn't hurt. But, overall, you're really not doing too badly there—"

Reaching forward as he rambled on, Brennan grabbed a fistful of his white T-shirt and yanked him closer to her.

"Here's a hint," she breathed, almost out of air as she spoke from the frustration he'd been building in her. "My tits are the size they are, and if you don't like them, that's too fucking bad."

"I never said I didn't like them, Bones," Booth grinned at her sudden display of aggression. "As a matter of fact, I've complimented you several times. You've got an fantastic pair of knockers—"

"Fine," Brennan said as acknowledged his compliment with a tilt of her head. "Thank you—"

"You're welcome," he murmured lazily, his eyes returning once more to the object of his fascination.

"But," Brennan continued. "You're going to have a much, _much_ better chance of making me scream if you put that mouth of yours to better use instead of sitting there all night rambling."

She then proceeded to demonstrate her point as she dragged Booth towards her and latched onto his lips as they met in what became more than a slightly frenzied kiss. At first, he was so surprised by her action that the abuptness of it was enough to make him temporarily non-responsive, giving Brennan a fair amount of latitude during which she had free range of his mouth. Starting with his lower lip, she began to suck on it like it was a fine chocolate truffle needing to be stroked with each swipe of her tongue until it dissolved in her mouth. Not content with just his lower lip, she tugged lightly on it as she let her tongue dart out of her mouth and proceed to press its way into his. Increasing the pressure with which she was seeking entrance, Brennan growled in frustration when Booth still didn't open his mouth quickly enough to grant her demand.

However, high or not, his body did still have some instinctual responses as he finally opened his mouth, his own tongue shot out and crashed into hers. The two of them then proceeded to duel, deepening the kiss as she lifted herself out of her chair, and pushed Booth further back into his, She then propped her knees on either side of his waist in the armless chair. Brennan was quite lucky that her momentum was supported by Booth using each of his hands to steady her position by placing a hand on each hip. Just as she started to feel lightheaded from a lack of oxygen, and knew she needed to pull away to grasp for air, she realized that Booth's fingers were pulling at the elastic of the black yoga pants that she had changed into from her gym bag before bed. As he pushed them off of her hips, the simple white panties she was wearing going with the yoga pants, Brennan reluctantly pulled away and gasped for air.

Staring at Booth, a nefarious look clear in his eyes, she finally managed to ask, "What are you doing?"

"Making you scream God's name," he said with a leer of his own. "Now, come 'ere," he grunted.

In an unusual move of compliance, Brennan allowed Booth to push her out of his lap, set her feet on the floor, and then spin her around so that her back was to him. With a ruthlessly efficient movement, he pulled her yoga pants and panties down in a single movement so that they bunched around her ankles. Staring at her pale ass with greedy eyes, he let his hands follow the curves of her posterior, and then dug his fingers into the base of her cheeks. "If you got a pretty good set of tits, you've got a really good ass," he muttered. "Better than really good," he said, giving her warm flesh a firm squeeze. "Excellent...really excellent, even."

Shoving the tank top up slightly, he pressed a kiss to the middle of her back and then began to trail a length of hot wet kisses down her vertebral column. When he reached the top of her ass's cleft, he moved his hands so that he parted it slightly, squeezing each cheek again in appreciation. Booth felt Brennan squirm a bit when he gave her one final kiss of approval somewhere between the small of her back and the base of her cleft. Pulling away, he gave her ass one last look of appreciation before he leaned back into the chair himself, pulled her so that her ass was perched on the very edge of the chair, her hips between his wide-spread thighs, and then leaned in so that his chin rested on her shoulder with his lips close enough to her ears so that he could hear her speak.

"Now, let's have some real fun," he growled.

Tracing his fingers down her side in an extremely ticklish way, Brennan again squirmed as she felt him rest his right hand on the swell of her hip before it bypassed her thighs and the palm of his hand came to rest atop the crown of her pubic bone. Slowly, he extended his palm, fingers down, in a sweeping motion over the coarse hairs that crowned her warm folders. He shivered and moaned quietly as he felt the rough yet soft texture in the palm of his hands, but continued to allow his fingers to roam. He pushed further down, using his middle three fingers to trace the line of her slit, but not actual separating it. The teasing motion made Brennan want to scream by the time he'd reached the bottom. Then, shifting his hand's position slightly, he moved so that his index and middle finger carefully parted her from the bottom up—a movement that she unintentionally rewarded with a flush of wet moisture on his fingers.

"Yeah," Booth nodded in approval, licking his lips though she could not see him do so. "That's good." _So fucking good._

"Ooohhh," Brennan moaned quietly as it felt like his touch set her most intimate places aflame. "Ohhh..."

He smiled in satisfaction at having elicited such a response from her, particularly—at least as far as he was concerned—he was just getting started.

"I'm assuming that when you moan and groan it's a good thing, right, Bones?" he whispered into her ear, flicking the delicate shell of her ear with the point of his tongue. "You think it's a good thing when you feel me touching you like this, don't you?" he teased her, pressing his lips against the silky skin where the back of her ear met her skull. "Go ahead. You can tell me. I promise, I won't tell anyone. It'll be a secret, just between you and me—our dirty little secret, if you tell me how much you love it when I touch you like this—"

"I think," Brennan said breathlessly, "that you can be very adroit with your phalanges when you want to be."

Using his middle finger, Booth moved slightly higher and felt Brennan arch her back into his torso when he found her clit and began to move his finger in very light circles. Her eyes pressed closed, she leaned her head on his shoulder as he exerted a maddening pattern of alternating pressure.

"Fuck," she moaned. "Oh, oh, oh—"

Booth grinned as he switch directions and began to move from a clockwise to a counterclockwise motion. "You still with me, Bones?"

"Mmmm hmmmm," she managed to croak. "_Ohhhhhh—_"

"You want to finish that thought, Bones?" Booth said, deliberately slowed his motion so that he couldn't be accused of stopping, but was moving just slow enough to tease her so that the teasing really bordered on a sweet type of torment that he knew would drive her crazy. "Maybe say something like 'Oh, God'... 'Oh, my God'... hell, I think we could even go with 'Dios Mio' if you want. Any of those would work—"

Her eyes snapping open, Brennan shook her head. "No, no—I'm not going to say that—"

Booth interrupted her words when he moved his fingers lower, quickly parting her wet folds and let one finger slip inside her slick warmth. Brennan groaned at the movement, and the groans grew longer and louder when he began to pump his finger in and out of her.

"More," she rasped. "Oh, fuck, Booth. More—"

"Tell me what you want," he breathed into her ear, losing sight of his goal of making her scream God's name for a moment, enthralled as he was by seeing her heaving body squirm because of him, because of what he was doing to her. "Exquisite, everything about you is so fucking perfect, Bones. You're so fucking sexy, right now. Tell me what you want," he whispered, his own throat having grown thick with the desire he was feeling as she built towards her climax.

"More," she moaned in a simple plea. "More, faster."

Grinning, Booth quickly added a second finger as he continued thrusting his fingers in and out of her, increasing his tempo. Her back arched even further against him, almost like she was a cat stretching in a languorous contortion. Had Brennan been more aware of things beyond the steady sensation of Booth's fingers penetrating her, she would have felt his straining erection pressing against her ass. However, her brain had only the ability to concentrate on her building orgasm.

Grabbing his free hand, she brought it up to her breast and pressed it against the nipple. She hissed when she felt it, but her head lulled again as he took the hint and began to flick her nipple.

"Oh, fuck—" she whispered. "Fuck me..."

"Bones—" he moaned, feeling her wetness increase as he continued moving his fingers in and out of her. "Come."

"Not yet," she moaned. "_Oooohhhh_, fuck, I'm close. But, not yet—"

Moving his lips to the base of her neck, Booth began to alternatively lick and suck his way across her skin. "Come," he breathed against her skin. "Now. You're there. I can feel it. Let go, baby."

And, true to his words, Brennan's walls were tightening against his fingers as he continued moving in and out of her. "_Ooooohhhh_, Booth."

Letting the hand that was on her breast fall down to her hip, very quickly, he slid it across her pubic bone and dipped down into her sleek wetness. As he used one hand to keep pumping into her pussy, he used the other to flick her hypersensitive clit. He only had to do it twice before he felt her lean into him again. _You're so fucking close, baby. Just let go..._

"_Boootthhh_," she moaned. Her head lulled against his shoulder again. _Oh, God, I'm coming,_ she thought, feeling the familiar, weightless feel that she could only liken to a similar sensation when she was riding a roller coaster and felt herself going down the incline. Once she pressed forward, she knew there was no stopping it—not that she wanted to, no way, no how—but, she could only ride out the wave of sensations assaulting every nerve ending in her body. _Ohhhh, I'm coming, and it's because of Booth. Fuck_—_but, I can't...I can't let him win..._

Knowing that if she didn't do something soon as she reached the most intense part of her climax that she might shout out anything from Booth's name to God's as she feared, she knew the only safe thing to do was to find something to keep her from crying out. And, as her eyes blinked open, her head still lolling against Booth's shoulder, she saw the well-defined musculature of his bicep as her mouth rolled open. And, just as Booth gave one particularly strong thrust into her, Brennan felt her walls spasm in her tell-tale signs of a climax. With her last coherent thought, she rolled her head over, opened her mouth, and bit down on his arm when she at last felt herself come.

For a few seconds, both the partners were clearly dazed, albeit for different reasons. Booth, in his dazed state, seemed torn between being pleased with himself that he'd made her come and had the evidence of his achievement stickily coating his fingers and suddenly realizing that she hadn't said a single word when she'd come. _Huh. Now, what happened there...no way that she's not the loud type. I'd know it. Then, why didn't she even say __my__ name? _And, even as he contemplated that particular point, he suddenly felt a small tingle of pain radiate from his arm. Glancing down at where he held Brennan in his lap, he saw where her head had moved away from his arm, and he frowned when he saw the tell-tale evidence of why he hadn't heard her so much as moan when she finally came. A small red ring of bite marks marred his bicep, and his skin was still wet where her saliva coated his skin. Feeling a flush of anger at her flagrant cheating, Booth leaned into her, his chin on her shoulder as he whispered, "That was a low-down damn dirty trick, Bones."

Turning her head in the direction of his voice, she smiled sweetly, feeling quite generous in her post-orgasmic haze. "Sorry," she murmured.

"No, you're not, you dirty fink," Booth muttered as he studied the glistening wetness of her that still clung to his fingers. He desperately wanted to taste her, but as she studied her, and annoyed at what he considered her unsportsmanlike behavior, Booth resisted. Instead, he quickly rubbed his hands together in a movement that merely coated more of his hands with her scent. He frowned when he realized what he'd done, but was distracted by Brennan's words.

"No, I'm not," she agreed, as she looked at him through heavy lidded eyes. "And, just for those who are keeping count, that's one opportunity down, Booth. Because I did come. Very nicely, in fact, thank you very much."

"You cheated," Booth complained as he shook his head at her. "You cheated...and you used me to do it, too."

"I did," she admitted with a nod.

"That fucking sucks, Bones," Booth grumbled. "That _really _fucking sucks, you cheat—"

"I believe the terms of the experiment never specified anything about limiting what I could do to myself to keep myself from shouting God's name," Brennan smiled sweetly. "Next time, you really should be more specific."

Pushing her a bit roughly out of his lap, Booth shook his head as he said, "Up. Now."

Still a bit shaky on her feet, Brennan wobbled a bit before she reached down and quickly pulled up her panties and yoga pants in one fluid movement. She smiled a him as she adjusted the tank top so that it covered her breasts. Then, she smiled prettily at him as she fell to her knees between his legs.

Booth, still pouting, looked down at her with a languid eye as he said, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Making amends," she murmured.

Her hand had managed to unbuckle his belt, unbutton the buttons on his suit trousers, unzip the pants' zippers, and slip inside the elastic of his boxers before Booth knew what was happening. Already painfully hard from having watched her build to her climax and come, Booth almost lost it when she took her fingers and let them snake inside the warmth of his boxers to slowly wrap around his stiff cock. Booth's hips bucked slightly at merely the simple warm pressure of her light grasp.

"Mmmmmmm," she said in appreciation, half-fisting the top portion of his cock within the confines of his boxers. "Mmmmmmm—"

Brennan had just started to move her thumb around the underside of the cock's tip when he felt an intense pressure building in his balls that was a well-known sign that he was about twenty seconds away from coming in her hand and in his pants. Not sure whether which idea embarrassed him more, Booth used his feet to kick back and push away from her as the chair rolled in the opposite direction from where Brennan had been kneeling. Somewhat surprised by his movement, she released him immediately, allowing a space of approximately two feet separating them.

A small look of hurt was on her face as Brennan tilted her head at him. "What did I do?" she asked quietly.

"You cheated," Booth said, surprised (but, not really) at how rough his voice was, wincing as it cracked a bit when he spoke. "I don't...you...we can't...not until I have my other two at-bats, Bones."

"But," she pleaded. "You're hard already, Booth—"

"Yes, I know that, Bones," Booth groaned. _Please don't take what I said about talking dirty to heart right now, Bones. I don't think I can if you do_—

"Then, please?" she said. "You made me feel so good, the experiment aside—so let me reciprocate."

"No," Booth said with a firm shake of his head as he quickly stood up and began to refasten the fly on his trousers and the belt buckle. "Not until the experiment is done." He paused and then said, "Unless of course you'd like to admit that you were about to scream God's name just now and would've but for finking out like you did, no way, no how. I've got my pride here, Bones—"

_And, thank the good Lord she's not touching me anymore, because if she were, that'd be all I'd have, and even that would be pretty fucking short-lived. Sweet Jesus..._

Frowning, Brennan stood up, a bit insulted at his terms. "Fine," she said, turning on him. "Suit yourself."

She moved to resume her earlier spot, still a bit hurt at her rejection of him, and prayed he'd take the hint and leave her alone.

Booth stared at her for several long seconds, blinked his eyes in disbelief, and then shook his head before he walked away.

* * *

><p>A short time later, Booth stood on the far side of the lab, having placed some distance between he and Brennan. His throbbing hard-on was still quite painful, and Booth felt an uneasy nervous energy that he knew he needed to do something about...and soon. Glancing in the direction of the men's restroom, Booth contemplated going in for a few moments and jerking off to get some relief. He was contemplating how easy it would be to do that since he was already so close thanks to Brennan's earlier ministrations. But, then he shook his head as he recalled how powerful her orgasm had been and how she'd used him to cheat.<p>

"She effin' bit me," Booth muttered as he glanced back towards the platform where Brennan sat, much as she had been when he had approached her an hour earlier. "What a friggin' cheater," Booth muttered again to himself. " That fink...she fuckin' cheated...and used me to do it, and I can't believe that she did that except I can. Man, this fucking blows—"

He narrowed his eyes and stared at her, hunched over the table peering into a microscope, her hair tousled, but otherwise showing no outward sign—at least at this distance—of the way he'd touched her or, he noted sadly, having been stripped naked. He looked down and rubbed his upper arm, frowning at the crescent of four little red marks on the inside of his bicep.

"Damn it," he whispered, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his slacks as he glared at her. _That was totally cheating, _he pouted. _I would've had you screaming, Bones, if you hadn't cheated like that. You probably cheat all the time, rationalizing the way you always do in your super-squinty way, saying how it's not cheating, it's just strategy. Right, Bones? But, it is_—_it so __is__ cheating. And, then to go around and try to touch me like that_—_'making amends' and trying to touch me like that so that you'd distract me. No fair_—_that was so totally no fair. And, now I'm hard_—_which really, really blows, the the way, but, you've already had one fan-fuckin'-tastic orgasm, courtesy of Seeley J. Booth, Super Sexy Genius_—_and what do I get for my good deed? One order of blue balls, coming up. You little pricktease...I can't believe you did that, slipping your hands in my pants like that_—_and the worst part was that it felt so fuckin' good. Sooooooo fuckin' good. Jesus. What the fuck, Bones, __what the fuck_? _I think this was a part of your grand master plan to drive me nutters once and for all. Then, I'd definitely lose and you would win, but you didn't want to feel badly about it, so what_—_did you think I would just let you jerk me off on the platform? Because, I thought about it. I almost let you, you know that? I almost did if I wasn't so pissed at you because you're such a damn cheater. But, you knew that, huh? I'm sure that's the way your little logicky way of thinking would justify your cheating, right?_

Booth glanced up at the scaffold-like stainless steel bracing that hung over the platform and smiled at the twinkling white lights that were threaded through the bracing. _I love Christmas, _he grinned_. _He then stopped mid-thought and frowned. _ At least, I used to like Christmas, when I used to be able to spend it doing Christmas-y things like sitting around with Parker watching the Charlie Brown Christmas special and drinking hot chocolate in the morning as we open our presents. _He sighed. _There are no Christmas-y things here. It's __not__ Christmas-y sitting around the lab with the squints...unless I'm getting a chance to fuck Bones in that cute little elf hat...and I didn't even get to suck on her tits like she wanted—hell, like I wanted to—the damn, dirty cheater. _"This just sucks," he said, walking over towards the stairs. "Sucks, sucks, _sucks_," he pouted as he trudged along and noticed he was walking past Angela's office.

He stood at the closed door to her office, but saw the faint light of the sparkling holographic Christmas tree that she had created using the Angelatron shining through the glass windows. _Dude, I wish I had a cool computer thingy named after me, _he thought to himself. _What would I call it? Hmmm...what would be a good name? Maybe...the Boothilator, _he grinned. However, his smile quickly faded somewhat when another thought occurred to him. _But what would a Boothilator be used for?_ He stopped for a moment to consider the question. _Well, maybe it could have some kind of whizbang doohickey that could tell if people are lying? Yeah, _he nodded silently, a goofy grin spreading across his face as he imagined the possibilities. _Yeah_, _that __would__ be freakin' awesome. It'd be, like, a lie-detecting machine. _He furrowed his brow. _Oh, wait. Shit. No, that won't work at all. There's already a lie-detecting machine, isn't there? Don't we have one at work? Yeah, I think we do. I've used it. Awwww, fuck. That sucks. _Booth took one last lingering glance at Angela's computer-generated Christmas tree and, letting go a long, frustrated sigh, continued walking towards the stairs that led to the lab's upstairs lounge as his thoughts returned to Brennan.

"I can't believe she bit me," he grumbled aloud. _The little bloodsucker, though she probably would spend three hours telling me how vampires don't exist and how the whole vampire thing is really some way that somebody came up with in medieval times to explain some kind of weird, rare blood disease. _He snorted. _Yeah, she'd probably go off and say how the sacrament of Holy Communion is actually some kind of vampire ritual that was eventually co-opted by cannibals to legitimize their secret rites. _Booth frowned and dismissed the thought with a shake of his head. "Man, this blows—and _not _in the good way, either."

Booth paused and shook his head as he contemplated what had just happened between the pair. "She knew I was gonna make her scream when I made her come, and she didn't want to see me hit it out of the park on the first at-bat." He smirked. _That's okay, _he thought. _Like I said, I've still got two more at-bats left, and that's __plenty__ of time to do what I gotta do to get things done. _The image of Brennan's flushed face contorting in pleasure as he'd pumped his fingers in and out of her flashed in his mind. _God, she's so fucking hot_—_and, I'm gonna make her come again. She has __no__ idea what she's in for. Nope—not at all. _"Bones, Bones, Bones," he muttered as if chiding her at a distance. "You've been hanging out with minor league flunkies like Stires way too much." _She's got no idea what kind of Boothy goodness I can turn out when I really want to_—_you are in such deep shit, and you don't even know it yet. _

As he stood at the base of the stairs, he turned around and glanced in Brennan's direction once more, his eyes caressing her round, ivory shoulders from a distance. _She's so fucking gorgeous, _he reluctantly admitted. _Totally fucking gorgeous. And she fucking knows it. And she knows I think she's fucking gorgeous. She knows that I know that she knows what we both know, and I'm fucked because she's gonna fucking torture me over it. _At that exact moment, Brennan glanced up from the microscope and looked to the side, scribbling something on the little notepad at her side. Her gaze had lingered in his direction, almost as if Brennan knew where he'd been standing, and for a fleeting moment, Booth thought he'd seen her eyes meet his.

He rubbed his bicep again as she turned away again, and he shook his arms loosely at his sides as he looked at the support bar that ran beneath the stairs. He felt twitchy, a twinge of tingly energy propagating all the way from his shoulders to his fingertips because of his still-strong erection. He needed to do something, since he damn well couldn't sleep, and the last person he wanted to be anywhere near was Brennan. _Not after she went after me with those squinty little chompers of hers. I mean, at least, not until she promised to behave and quite treating me like a chew toy. _His eyes darted around the lattice work in front of him, and then an idea suddenly occurred to him.

Instead of retreating to the men's bathroom to take care of business, Booth walked over to the stairs and glanced up at the horizontal steel bar that ran between the industrial, steel grate staircase and the metal support pillar next to it. He jumped up, catching himself as his fists curled around the cold, blued steel rod in a narrow, underhanded grip. He hung loosely from the bar for a few seconds, enjoying the feel of his muscles stretching as his feet dangled about six inches off the ground. He took a deep breath and, feeling a tight burn in his biceps, shoulders, and back as he pulled himself up until his chin passed over the height of the bar. _Huh. How about that? This is pretty good. Yeah. This might do the trick, after all. A good work out might be exactly what I need. Who knew the lab had all this hidden fitness gear, squirreled away like this? God, that's convenient, but probably a horrible waste since I'm sure those scrawny squints never use primo equipment like this. Maybe Hodgins—he at least has some muscle tone, but...wait, why am I even thinking about Hodgins' body? Alright. This is nuts. _

Booth held himself for a moment, then lowered himself again, his eyes quickly flickering over to the platform again to leer at Brennan once more. _Wait a minute, _he frowned at seeing her stool sitting empty and no sign of her anywhere on the platform. _Where in the hell did you go, Bones? _Booth did another chin-up as his frown deepened. _She didn't actually go to bed, right? Because, if she did, that'd be cheating, too. We have a thing going on here, and she can't just, you know, throw in the towel and go to bed. I'd win by forfeit, right? _He took a breath and quickly pulled himself up again with a quick jerk. _Because...that would fucking suck. There's no fun in winning by forfeit. _As he lowered himself from the bar again, another thought occurred to him. _Even if I lose this little challenge_—_not that I will, because I have a pretty good idea even from that little thing before about the kind of thing that makes her crazy now, but anyway_—_it's gonna be all kinds of freakin' fun when I get my second go. And, maybe if that dirty rotten fink stops cheating, maybe we can have some actual one-on-one fun. _As he raised and lowered himself again, he felt the muscles in his upper arms, shoulders, chest, and back twitch, almost vibrating, as he moved.

He thought back to when he was a boy, playing baseball for Saint Joseph's High School in ninth grade, and how the coach had told the team after a close game against the Regis High School Crusaders, the same thing he always told them after a tough loss: 'It's not whether you win or lose, but how you play the game.' Booth grinned. _Well, I'm not gonna lose this little game here, Bones, but even if I were_—_and I'm not saying I am going to lose, but either way_—_ it's gonna be pretty fun playing, and figuring out all the ways how I can make you all kinds of crazy wet, and purr like a little kitten. Well, maybe not like a kitten since I really don't really like cats. Actually, I hate cats because I think I'm allergic. Maybe—well, it still wouldn't be half bad to hear her purr like a little kitten. It's not like she'd actually be a cat, right? Just sound like one, and a purr like that would be pretty fucking sexy, because she'd say something that was all kinds of sexy like—_

"What are you doing, Booth?"

He was so surprised to hear her voice he nearly fell from the bar. As it was, he was halfway through an upward pull when her voice cut into his quiet concentration. He barely managed to clear the bar before dropping again, suspending himself in a dead-hang as Brennan walked around the stairs and into his field of vision. He blinked several times, not certain if it was really Brennan or a figment of his antifungal drug-induced hallucination, because, unless he was very much mistaken, Booth thought he saw a clearly hungry look on her face.

"Tired of squinting at bones, Bones?" he asked her, grinning at his own cleverness as he quickly recovered from his surprise and tried to project a casual air about himself. "Or did ya miss me already?" he grunted, pulling himself up again with a strained jerk, holding his chin above the bar as he leered at her from above. _Huh, this is kind of a nice view from up here, _he noted. _Yeah, it's a really nice view of those awesome ta-ta's she's got. But, it would be so much better if I could see all of that fantastic cleavage of hers. Take it off, Bones. Strip it off, now. Right now_—

"Booth," she said in a low voice.

"Yeah, Bones?" he grinned at her.

"Just so you know," Brennan told him. "I never tire of looking at human remains since it's what I do, and I take great pleasure in it. So, no, I didn't get tired of looking at the remains—"

"Ahhh," Booth allowed his grin to transition to a knowing smirk. "So, then you did miss me, huh?"

"I was curious to see what trouble you were up to," she admitted. "So, what are you doing there, Booth?"

"What's it look like, Sherlock?" he chuckled as he emphasized his point with another chin up.

"Your trite attempt to chastise me using a literary allusion aside," Brennan observed with a bit of a sour note clearly present in her voice. "I believe you are incorrectly using the lab ladder's support structure as some type of makeshift pull-up bar in an attempt to work off the excess sexual energy that you displayed on the platform in the form of your generous erection before you so rudely rebuffed me. And, as you know, since I'm the best in the world, I'm quite certain I'm not wrong."

"_Riiiighht," _Booth said, pulling himself up again as he stared at her, his crooked grin giving way to gritted teeth when he felt the long burn in his chest and biceps as his muscles tired. "Yeah, I know all about you and you being the best in the world, Bones." One hand at a time, he switched his grip from an underhanded, chin-up grip, to an overhanded pull-up grip.

"I _am _in the best in the world," she said with a self-satisfying smile on her lips as she battled in her mind between pleasure at her own assessment of her skills and annoyance at the fact that Booth seemed quite unaffected or impressed by her talents. _Damn it, Booth. Pay attention to me. I'm trying to appear alluringly seductive here! Stop ignoring me_— "Despite the fact that, clearly, some people think I'm not."

Brennan stood there, her hands on her hips, and watched him complete another two dead-hang pull-ups, noting with silent approval how complex such a movement really was, kinesiologically speaking. She observed how Booth's well-developed _latissimus dorsi _and the lower sternal fibers of the _pectoralis major _muscles extended his arm from his initial overhead hanging position. Though more difficult to observe as he lowered himself again to the hanging position, she knew that his lower _trapezius, pectoralis minor _and _serratus anterior _muscles were acting a scapular depressors, keeping his shoulder blades in place during the movement by rotating the scapulae downward during the downward movement of the exercise. She saw how his impressively-formed _biceps brachii _muscles shortened as he flexed his elbows to pull himself up yet lengthened as his shoulder extended to let himself down again. She watched all of this with wonder and a growing feeling of refreshed arousal, not realizing as she watched him that he was, in fact, watching her watch him.

"You aren't checkin' me out there, Bones, are you?" Booth asked her as he lowered himself once more from the bar, the self-satisfied grin clear in his voice.

"Not really," Brennan said, trying to assume a reciprocally relaxed air of dazed non-chalance that she believed mirrored Booth's own casual attitude. "I was merely observing the way the major muscle groups of your torso and upper extremities work during such a physically intense, complex exercise." She rolled her shoulders inward, causing her breasts to press closer together, accentuating the visible cleft between them. She thought she heard Booth make a noise of some sort, a groan, but couldn't quite be sure as he grunted softly during each upward phase of the pull-up. She watched how his well-toned muscles twitched and flexed as he moved, and she felt a warm, wet pulse grow strong between her legs once again. _Fuck, Booth, _she cursed him silently_. How can you do this to me when you're not even touching me? How can you be __that__ good? Well, no_—_that's it. I'm not taking this metaphorically laying down. If you're going to torture me, I'm going to torture you, too. And, since you seem to like my tits so much, I think I'll start with those and then maybe you pay attention to me._

Booth held himself up for a moment as he watched her press her breasts together_, _knowing full well that she did so in order to tease him. He felt his throat go dry as he saw her reach up with both hands and, slide her hands under her tank top and cup her breasts. Her eyes closed as she moaned a bit as she began to play with herself. _God, Bones, _he groaned silently. _What are you doing_—_trying to make yourself scream God's name?_

Unable to help herself as she got a bit carried away at the display she was putting on from him, Brennan indulged herself for only a few seconds before she forced herself to stop.

"Booth?" she said, her eyes suddenly snapping open as she looked at him, even though she already knew he was watching her since she could feel the heavy weight of his gaze on her.

"Yes?" he squeaked.

"Do I have your attention now?" Brennan asked, still massaging her tits in a way that made her mild arousal increase with every flick of her fingers against her already hyper-sensitive nipples.

"I don't know, Bones," Booth managed to croak. "Do you?"

Taking up the challenge of his words, Brennan smiled evilly as she let her hands fall away from under her shirt, and she quickly pushed the tank top all the way so that her tits were exposed for Booth's viewing, unimpeded in all their perky glory. At her move_—_as she began to flick her already tight nipples_—_Booth could no longer suppress the sound of his groan or, for that matter, hold himself up in a flexed, pulled-up position. His arms promptly gave out on him, and he felt a sharp twinge in his shoulders as he dropped to the ground.

"What are you _doing_ to me?" he growled as stood to his full height, shook his arms out, and closed the distance between them in two short steps.

"The better question, Booth," Brennan said with a crooked-mouthed sneer, "is what are _you _going to do to _me_?"

She casually pulled the fabric of her tank top back over her breasts, turned on her heel, and swung around the banister of the stairs leaving Booth to follow in hot pursuit.

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><p><em>To Be Continued...<em>

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><p><strong><span>AN:**

Gee,_ I wonder what Booth is gonna do here. Hmm. He might decide to call it a night and stumble his way back to Brennan's office and crash on the floor next to Dr. Goodman, his lung fungus-weekend roomie._

_Oh, you think that's not the way this should go? __What exactly would you like to see?_

_Well, the fact is, Part III is already written and in final edits, so if we can get some nice reader feedback, we won't keep you waiting too long to see how this ends. (And, perhaps more interestingly, since these two are trapped in the lab, where it ends, right?) _

__We assure you Pt III is one of the hottest chapters we've ever written. Maybe the hottest so far, depending on your taste.__

__Intrigued? Well...__

_So, if you would, please take a few moments of your time and give _**Lesera128**_ and the humble _**dharmamonkey**_ a bit of feedback. It's quite easy to leave a review (a helluva lot easier than writing the actual fics themselves, we assure you). So please send us a little bit of psychic revenue to keep us chuggin' so we can stay motivated long enough to get Part III up. _

**::wink::**

_Press that wee little review button down there. _

_Yes, of course, that one down there. _

_Oh, don't be coy. You know the one._


	12. 12—Spreading Holiday Joy, Pt III

**A Very Bad Idea  
><strong>**By****:** dharmamonkey & Lesera128  
><strong>Rated<strong>**: **M  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>**: **Ummm, nope, we still don't own anything. We have, however, apparently become squatters in the sandbox that we crashed... so, umm... yeah. There we go

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><p><strong>AN****: **_Well, yes, here we are. The moment of truth. This is the last chapter of our three-part holiday piece (which, unfortunately, due to the terribly inconvenient interruptions our real lives posed to our fanfic-writing lives, is a couple of days late). Again, we want to take this opportunity to thank all of you for all of your support over the last year, and the best way we could think of thanking you was to give you a nice, handmade gift. In this case, the gift of B&B unf, hand-crafted by the twisted team of _**Lesera128**_ and _**dharmamonkey_. _**_So, without further ado, let's rejoin our slightly-high heroes in the lab, where they've been quarantined with the rest of the squints._

****Unf alert: ****_This chapter has unf. If you think you can handle it, read on. But don't say we didn't warn ya. The NFPA fire protection code requires us to tell you that an approved, fully-tested fire extinguisher should be kept nearby while reading._

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><p><strong>III. Spreading Holiday Joy, Part III<strong>

**Pertinent Details on Scenario #3****: **Set during the episode 1x09: "The Man in the Fallout Shelter."

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><p>For a split second, Booth watched Brennan's receding form. He blinked at it for the span of a few more seconds before he felt a flash of annoyance at her challenge. <em>Fucking-A, Bones<em>. And, in a split second, he was on the move. Booth jutted out his lower jaw and narrowed his eyes in determination as he rounded the pillar and chased her up the stairs. _Dammit, Bones! _As he heard the loud rattle of his footfalls on the steel grate of the stairs' tread, he slowed his pace, suspecting that Brennan would be waiting for him in the lounge.

"Booth," Brennan called out to him in a very soft voice from where she lay reclining on the lounge's sole deep red colored couch as he arrived at the top of the stairs. "Two things."

"What, Bones?" Booth growled as he held his position at the top of the stairs.

Noticing how rough his voice was already, Brennan was delighted with her efforts to get his attention. However, she swallowed a smile as she decided to tease him just a bit more by pointing out some more practical issues. "One: this little experiment of ours will be a _lot _easier to complete if we don't wake everyone else up in the process," she said, noting how his white tank T-shirt clung nicely to his pectoral muscles, presumably because he had broken a sweat during his impromptu exercise routine.

When he realized the racket he'd made while jogging up the stairs and, perhaps worse, how loud his voice actually had been when he'd called out his response to her, Booth quickly flushed a bit in reaction to her point. For a split second, he imagined how horribly embarrassing it would be if one of the squints, or, God forbid, _Goodman_, actually found them in the middle of whatever it was that they were about to do.

"Fine," he shrugged. "Right. Two?"

"Second: ummmmm..." Brennan's voice trailed off as a twinkle of the luminescent red and green test tubes that Hodgins and Angela had filled and strung in the lounge finally caught her attention. _Huh. That refraction really is quite pretty. Hmmmmm..._

She was distracted from her thoughts when Booth snapped his fingers sharply and said, "Yo, Bones. Try to stay with me here, huh?"

Looking over at her partner, Brennan suddenly forgot about the lights, instead concentrating on Booth. "Damn, you can be quite sexy when you want to, Booth," she murmured in appreciation.

"Agreed," Booth said, as he slowly looked over at her and considered her compliment. "Ya know, Bones. You better be careful there. If I didn't know better, I would say you just said something nice about me."

"It wasn't intended as a compliment," she told him. "I was just making a statement of fact. I find you incredibly arousing from a sexual perspective." She squirmed slightly as she realized her body was several long strides ahead of her brain as she felt the well-known twitch of her arousal already growing in intensity.

"Hmmm," Booth said as he plopped himself on the couch next to her, although he was careful to maintain some distance between them. "Well, you may not have meant it as a compliment, but it was still a nice thing to say." He stopped and waggled his eyebrows at her as he added, "Of course, are you sure that you aren't wet and willing from more than just how hot I looked doing my pull-ups there, Bones?"

Tilting her head at him, she arched an eyebrow as she asked, "Meaning?"

"Meaning," he said. "I think we both know I've helped make certain you're all fussed up over there since we were having some quality one-on-one time on the platform down there before you went and started jerking me around when I was trying to jerk you off with that little stunt that you pulled, Bones."

"I don't recall jerking any part of you around, Booth," Brennan said with a leer in her voice. "But, if you want to pause in the second part of our little experiment here, perhaps so that I can make amends, I'd be very amendable to that idea."

"_My_ experiment, Bones," Booth corrected her. "Not 'ours'—_mine. _And it's a really good idea that you remember that, too, FYI."

"Why?" Brennan pouted a bit.

"Because, we're not going to have anymore damn dirty tricks, Bones," Booth said as he wagged his index finger at her. "If I take my second at-bat, and that's a _big _if, we agree here and now that you don't pull anymore of this balking at the batter bullshit. Agreed?"

"I'm not certain what that means, but am I to assume you're referencing your allegation that I acted in some way to subvert your efforts to get me to scream God's name when you were fingering me on the platform?" Brennan asked him in a very silky voice.

_Oh, shit_, Booth thought to himself. _She's doing it again. Shit, shit, shit. God, she is so completely fuckable even when she doesn't talk dirty like that. And then she gets going with that dirty little mouth of hers, and fuck—_

"Yeah," he finally managed to nod, although the growing arousal he felt manifest in a tightening of his pants half-distracted him. He squeezed his eyes shut briefly, trying to collect himself a little, then added, "Understand, Bones? No more defensive interference, or I'm gonna make our little delay of game permanent. _Capiche?"_

Brennan blinked at him again, then shrugged. "Although I'm not admitting that I did anything wrong—"

"Because you wouldn't," Booth interrupted with a sharp shake of his head. "You never do."

"Then," she said curtly as she narrowed her eyes at Booth. "As I was saying, if I were to give you certain reassurances that I wouldn't act in any disingenuous manner while we were engaged in another attempt to see if you could obtain the results you desire, would that be good enough?"

He stared at her for a moment, his brow furrowed, before he nodded once. "Maybe."

"Fine," Brennan said, "But, as I previously mentioned, it might be a good idea to keep in mind that we should do our best to modulate the amount of noise we make?"

Nodding his head, Booth waved her off. "Yeah, yeah. I got it. We need to keep this on the Q-T. Got it, Bones." He stopped and then tilted his head at her as he said, "Though, if I'm right, and I can get you to scream God's name," he said with a lopsided grin, "I'm okay with waking everybody else up." He flashed his eyebrows suggestively. "It'd just have to be unintended consequences, you know, Bones."

"Well, hopefully that won't even be an issue, Booth," she snorted, leaning back against the couch, her legs falling apart slightly. "But, right now, I'm thinking I'm more interested in considering something along the line of intended consequences," she said in a low, husky voice. "That is, if you've decided to stop pouting long enough to get your cute little ass over here and see what happens."

_Cute little ass? _he thought, cocking a brow as he looked over at her with eyes as black as volcanic glass. _Hmmm...there she goes again with that dirty little mouth_—_and I think I really like it. God, that's so fucking hot._

"You sure we're clear on the interference issue, Bones? You definitely aren't gonna cheat this time, are you? Because that little number you did downstairs earlier_—_that was totally cheating, taking a bite out of me like I was a cut of grade-A prime cut steak is not cool. It was _very _unsportsmanlike." He glared at her, a certain lack of focus in his eyes despite the dark, intense way that they blazed with desire. "If I'm gonna win or lose this little challenge, Bones," he said, his voice suddenly dropping a half-octave, "let me win or lose on the basis of my, you know, efforts—not because you try to get one-up on me before I've finished playing out my turn." He leveled a hard stare at her, and her pupils pulsed as their eyes locked. "Got that, Bones?"

"Fine, Booth," she said with a nod. "I got it. You're pissed because you think I cheated, and if I do it again, you'll not only be pissed, but you're probably going to have to do something to punish me for my transgressions." Leaning towards him so that he could clearly see down the line of her tank top, Brennan said, "So, if you're quite finished bitching, might I suggest that you punishing me might be a fun way to start off the second part of this little experiment?"

He licked his lips as he leaned close to her, his breath tickling her ear as he curled his fingers once more around the waistband of her yoga pants. "You want to be punished, Bones?" he said in a deep voice.

"That depends, Booth," Brennan said as her eyes darted to the waistband of her pants. "You have some ideas on what you can do to punish me?"

"I have an idea or two, yeah," Booth nodded as he tugged at her pants until she lifted her ass off the rust-colored couch just enough to allow him to slide them off her hips, down her thighs, and over her knees. "And, just for the record, I'm just getting started, Bones." He growled when he saw her white panties, but smiled at he thought that they were almost certainly still damp from his earlier efforts. Booth grunted softly as he tugged at them, too, and with a _hmmph _sound Brennan lifted up her ass once more from the seat as he yanked her panties off. "We're just getting started," he whispered again, stroking the point of his tongue across the helix of her ear, causing her to twist her hips against the couch. He pulled away, bent over and pulled her pants and underwear off her legs, tossing them in a clump on the far side of the couch.

"Then I think we need to start already," Brennan breathed in a husky voice. "Now."

Booth nodded his head at her words, but gave no answer or other verbal response beside a grunt as he rolled off the couch and took his place at her feet, kneeling as he pressed her thighs apart. Sliding his hands across smooth, ivory skin along the insides of her thighs, he paused as he felt the gentle roundness at the very top of each thigh, just below the apex between them. _Oh my God, _he thought. _This is gonna be fuckin' heaven. _He closed his eyes and inhaled a deep breath and felt a twittering below his navel as he inhaled the sweet, musky smell of her before brushing his thumbs across her damp curls. _She's already dripping, _he observed silently. He parted her folds with his thumbs and grinned at the sight of her swollen pink flesh. _All for me, _he thought happily. _All mine. _

"You're so fuckin' wet," he murmured as he stroked one of his index fingers across her clit. "You're all sexed up, Bones. God, I've never known a woman that was as wet and ready as you are."

"_Boooootttth_," she groaned, twisting her hips and tightening her leg muscles in response. "Damn it, that feels so—"

"Tell me how it feels, Bones," he murmured. "Tell me."

"I—"

"Do you want more than my fingers this time?" he prompted her. "Do you?"

"Yes," she moaned as he traced the outer fold of her pussy with his thumb. "More."

"What do you want?" he asked again.

"I want_—_" she began as she squirmed under this touch. "I want you to do more than finger me, Booth."

Quite pleased at how the response he was eliciting from her, Booth smiled. "I kinda seem to remember you mentioned something about you wanting me to do something with my mouth earlier, Bones. You remember that?" He punctuated his efforts as he brought his thumb to the tip of her entrance and traced the circle that was already sleek with her fluids. "Do you?"

"_Yeeeessss_," she hissed, contorting at his touch.

"What did you say?"

"I said_—_" Brennan's words trailed off as she lost the ability to think for the span of a few seconds as Booth touched her. "Fuck_—_" she whispered. "I-I_—_"

"Yeah, Bones?"

"I wanted you to suck on my tits," she moaned. "Oh, fuck, Booth_—_"

His grin widening, Booth growled at her. "Oh, yeah, Bones. That's it. I'm gonna taste you this time. But, as awesome as the sucking your tits sounds, I think I wanna go for something just a bit sweeter."

His smile grew larger when she merely moaned in response. Remaining quiet himself, he leaned his head in towards her pussy, spreading her a little wider with his thumbs before brushing his lips across one of her outer folds, picking up a trace of her dampness on his upper lip which he promptly licked off. The taste of her sent a strong pulse straight into his groin, and he felt his suit slacks tighten so that there was definitely no longer any doubt in his mind that he was totally hard again. But, he tried to shake off the sensation as he opened his mouth, lowered his chin, and dragged his tongue over her opening in a long, languid stroke. She tasted so tangy and sweet, even kneeling he felt a little wobbly as he tried to center himself. Booth licked her again, dipping the point of his tongue inside of her briefly before bringing it in a circular motion around the firm rim of her opening. He winced, sure that he was about to come in his pants at the feel and taste of her on his tongue.

"God, Bones," he husked, his low voice nearly a whisper as he pulled his mouth away from her just enough that he could form words with his lips but remaining close enough to her flesh that she felt the vibration with every syllable that he spoke. "You taste so fucking incredible," he said, giving her a long, firm, demonstrative lick, tucking the point of his tongue inside of her once more to gather a bit of her tangy cream before raising his head a little. "I could go down on you all night," he murmured a moment after bringing his lips to rest against her clit.

"_Ohhhh_," Brennan moaned, the vibration of his voice reverberating against her most sensitive flesh in a way that nearly undid her completely right in that moment. She nibbled the inside of her lip and squeezed her eyes tightly shut_—_forcing herself to stop looking at the sight of her partner's dark brown hair bobbing up and down between her thighs so that she didn't come straight into his mouth right in that very minute. However, after a few seconds, she couldn't help herself as she opened her eyes and felt another gush of warmth at the sight of Booth's head moving between her legs. "You are so fucking sexy," she groaned as she felt her eyes roll back into her head as it lulled backward a bit. "So fucking sexy."

"You like that?" he said, his voice humming against her clit once more as he felt a swell of pride at her words. "You think I'm sexy, Bones?" Brennan sucked in a deep breath at the feel of his words against her clit, and he saw her rosy cheeks twitch. She moaned in the affirmative. "Bones," he murmured. "Open your eyes for me," he said, wanting more than anything to see the color of her eyes change, but knowing that she was doing everything in her power to maintain control over herself. "You're close. Stop fighting it. Come, Bones," he urged her. "Open those beautiful eyes of yours for me, baby, and come."

"Not yet," Brennan moaned. "Not yet."

Smiling in spite of her stubbornness, since Booth had always loved a challenge, with a quick, firm shake of his head, the motion of which caused Brennan to suck in another hard breath, he opened his mouth and deployed his tongue once more. This time he circled her clit a couple of times. Brennan closed her thighs a little, pressing them against the sides of Booth's head before he parted them with his forearms. _Nope. No way. No cheating there, Bones. _Vaguely annoyed by what part of him recognized was probably a reflex on her part, he held her thighs apart with his hands as he closed his lips around her clit, sucking on it for a couple of seconds before letting go, lathing it with the flat of his tongue, then pulling on it again firmly with his lips.

"_Ohhh_..._oohhhh_..._ohhhh_..._ohhhhhh_ _my—_"

Booth looked up just as he thought she would say the magic words, but she suddenly fell curiously silent. He couldn't tell from where he knelt between her legs, but Brennan was holding a piece of flesh on the inside of her lower lip between her teeth. As she loosened her hold on her lip, he stroked her once more with his tongue, which was slippery with her fluids, his saliva or, most likely, a mixture of both, but the perfect combination of friction and viscosity made the sensation that much more—for lack of a better word_, perfect._

"Come on, baby," Booth whispered between cycles of licking and sucking. He exhaled hard from his nose, not intending to do so, but in so doing making her arch her back at feeling a hard puff of air on her most sensitive parts. "Come for me."

"Oh, _Booooothhh," _Brennan groaned. _Oh my God, _she thought. Unwilling for her thoughts to escape her lips as verbalizations, she clamped her teeth down on the tender inside of her lip until she noted the metallic taste of blood pooling in the space between her lower incisors and her bottom lip. She held her teeth firm as she arched her back one last time, thrusting her wet pussy into his mouth, the slow upward spiral of sensation suddenly spiking as she felt a powerful flash of pleasure surge through her core before she shattered, her body's responses dissolving into a flutter. "Oh, Booth," she grunted as she felt him take one last languid lick, wiggling his tongue at her cum-soaked entrance before pulling away.

"Yeah," he whispered as he leaned back on his haunches, wiping his mouth with the open palm of his hand, quite pleased with himself as he realized that not only had he gotten her to come again, but that, at least this time, she'd called his name_—_and he found the sound of her voice moaning his name in pleasure incredibly fucking sexy. "Oh, yeah, Bones. Definitely."

_Oh, God, _he told himself. _Wow_—_just wow. Fuck me, that was hot. Wow. _As Booth watched her fall against the back of the couch, her head dropped back, exposing the smooth, creamy skin of her neck as her legs lay open. _She's so un-fucking-believable, _he thought. He grinned at how he'd brought her to such a powerful orgasm and wondered how he'd yet failed to get her to cry out the words that he just knew were on the tip of her tongue. _They were on the tip of your tongue, Bones, just when you were on the tip of mine, _he grinned evilly. _I know it. I just know it_. He watched her, when she was still in the haze of repletion, unable or uninterested in returning his gaze, and he saw her swirl her tongue between her teeth and lower lip. He wanted to kiss her lips, but at that moment, as her pale eyes flashed open, he knew she would have none of it. _Fuck. You are such a cheater, Bones. I don't know how you did it this time, but there is no fucking way I wasn't good enough to have you screaming God's name in several languages, let alone English. Hrrrummpphh._

Then, without a further word, he pressed his hands to his thighs and stood up, grunting a little as he felt his back crack and the act of standing up reminded him instantly how tight the fabric of his trousers was drawn across his own flesh. Brennan narrowed her eyes and looked at him with an unreadable expression on her face, aside from the fact that her eyes looked glassy and dulled, as she watched him move. Shaking his head, Booth twisted his hips a bit to adjust himself slightly, gave her a knowing look, and then shook his head.

"I'll catch up with you later, Bones," he said as he stared at her one final time, holding her gaze for several intense seconds, before he shook his head with a quiet snort and started to walk away. Booth headed in the direction of the stairs, leaving Brennan staring at him open-mouthed_—_and the look on her face couldn't be in any way attributed to still being an 'o-face.'

As he began walking down the stairs, he paused on the third step, glancing over his shoulder to see she rolled her head to the side, her heavy-lidded eyes watching him in curiosity. "Yeah," he nodded, just as much to himself as to her as he added, "And, don't forget, there's still one more out to go, Bones. This game isn't over_—_not by a long shot."

Booth then resumed a clipped pace as he bounded down the stairs, leaving Brennan alone once more.

* * *

><p>About a half-hour later, Brennan stood in the Bone Room, adjacent to the Modular Skeleton Storage facility, examining a couple of Careful Lionel's now-cleaned vertebrae that had been cleared for removal from the bio-containment quarantine unit. The past thirty minutes had been pure torture for Brennan. Although she loathed to admit it, the casual dismissal with which Booth had left her after he'd finished licking her into one of the best damn orgasms she'd ever had stung a bit. This time, she didn't even get the chance to make an offer to reciprocate for him. He'd didn't even bother to let her make the offer, but had just made a flat out rejection of her when he'd left her in the lounge, spread across the couch in her post-orgasmic haze clad in nothing but her tank top. For one of the first times in her life, the casual dismissal had made Brennan feel objectified, and she was pissed off about it.<p>

When she'd finally recovered enough sense to hastily dress, she'd contemplated taking refuge in Angela's office, knowing that Booth wouldn't dare bother her in there. However, two very good reasons prevented her from doing so. First, she didn't want the game to be over between them, and she knew if she went into Angela's office, it was as good as saying 'Good night, Booth. Thank you for the lovely evening.' And, she wasn't ready for that to happen quite yet. Second, the past two hours that Booth had spent teasing her into a frenzy, making her come twice, and then just dismissing her each time had left her in a pissed off heightened state of arousal that demanded she do _something_. And, so, Brennan decided to wait and bide her time, knowing that if nothing else, her partner's arrogance would eventually draw him back to her. So, she found something to distract herself and patiently waited for him to seek her out, just as she knew he'd eventually do.

Brennan had just moved one of Lionel's vertebra under a magnifying lens when a familiar voice shattered the dignified quiet of the Bone Room.

"Whatcha doin' there, Bones?"

She looked up with a scowl on her face, momentarily annoyed at having been interrupted from her work when she'd finally just managed to stop thinking about Booth and how he'd just left her in the lounge as she waited for him to come and find her. He stood there, in the doorway, leaning against the door frame with his head propped on one hand, the other stuffed in his pants pocket. He had again doffed Angela's elf hat, which he now wore at a rakish angle, a crooked grin on his face as he stared at her with a distinct wickedness twinkling in his dark brown eyes.

"What is it, Booth?" she asked, her sharp tone clearly indicating that she was in no mood to play after the way he'd treated her.

Booth stepped away from the door frame, pausing to examine the latch, which looked virtually identical to the one on the door to his office at the Hoover. There were metal buttons, one above and one below the catch, and for a moment, his mind still a little hazy, he puzzled over them. Then, in a moment of clarity or decisiveness, he pressed the one on top, then pulled the door firmly shut and locked behind him as he walked into the room.

Brennan felt her stomach flip once as the door clanked shut. "What?" she snapped, unready to acknowledge or register anything other than mild irritation at that moment. "What do you want?"

"Well," he began, stepping away from the door as he sauntered toward the illuminated examination table. He placed his hand on the table, admiring the way the light shined around his splayed, thick fingers, and grinned. "I should think that would be fairly obvious, Bones."

Tiring of waiting for his answer, Brennan rolled her eyes and shook her head before she returned to her examination of Careful Lionel's vertebrae.

"You finked out on the Secret Santa, Bones," Booth said after a minute, the thought suddenly occurring to him.

"I _what_?" she asked, looking up once more from the skeleton. "What are you talking about?"

"See, Bones," Booth said quite patiently, almost as if he were explaining things to a child, "This is the thing. We're all stuck here together because of this stupid lung fungus, right?" Brennan blinked at him several times, and when she didn't mouth off again, Booth smiled and continued. "So, we're stuck here over Christmas when we'd rather—well, when most of us, anyway_—_would rather be with our families, so all we've got this Christmas is each other, right? Well, you let us down a little when you decided to fink out on the Secret Santa—more specifically, you let me down, Bones. It's Christmas time, the best time of the year, my most favoritist holiday of the entire year. And, it's a time when people who care about each other, even if it's just in the most casual of ways, well, those people exchange gifts at Christmas, Bones."

"Booth," Brennan snorted. _This is complete bullshit. If you want something from me, say it. _"Once again, you're rambling." She leveled a hard stare at him. "And, you know what, I'm getting a little tired of you dictating things to me. So, for the final time, my question to you is what in the fuck are you trying to say, Booth? Because, when you blather on like you've been doing, you're doing nothing but wasting time here, both yours and mine, and I've got real work to do. So, you need get on with it, and I think it might be a good idea if you'd do that by being direct for once in your damn life."

He laughed and walked around the side of the examination table, leaning in close enough to Brennan that she could smell him—the musky, woody smell of his sweat, the fading scent of his sandalwood aftershave, and the now-faint smell of his menthol shaving cream. Though he still felt a little foggy and his eyesight still seemed a little blurry on account of the anti-fungal drugs, Booth nonetheless noted how she responded to his closeness with a certain flare of her nostrils, a definite darkening of her pale eyes, and a clear flushing of her face and shoulders. _She fucking wants me, _he smirked. _She fucking __wants__ me. And who am I to refuse her, huh? Besides, the more she wants me, the better it's gonna be when I'm finally inside of her and, oh—wow. _Booth grunted quietly as he quickly tried to formulate a strategy. _So how do I do this?_

"What I'm saying, Bones, is that I think it would be a very good thing if you got off your pretty little ass over there and did the right thing by participating in the exchange of gifts," he said with a grin. "Because, you know, it's the festive thing to do."

"Oh, really?" she blinked at him. "You want me to give you a gift—"

"Well, since you missed the drawing of names for Secret Santa—and since you and I are partners and all—I think it makes sense for you and me to exchange gifts," Booth said with a casual shrug. "Besides, it could be argued that I've already given you two there, Bones," he said as he raised up two fingers and gestured at her with him vaguely in the air. "Two times, remember? You've come twice because of me. _Dos_—as in twice, because I fingered you into oblivion once and then licked you all the way into that second awesome orgasm."

Brennan felt a warm pulse between her legs at the crudeness of his words, but she wasn't ready to give into him, not yet given how angry she still felt at his casual dismissal over her each time she'd let him touch her. "So, what kind of gifts are you suggesting we exchange, Booth?" she asked with a tilt of her head. "Or, am I the only one who'll be doing the giving since you've already been so damn generous with your fingers and your mouth, huh?"

"Well, _uhhhh_," he said, his voice dropping an octave from just seconds earlier. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, squirming a little as he felt a raw tingle radiating from the base of his spine signaling that he was getting hard thinking of how to flat out proposition her. _She fucking wants me, and I sure as fuck want her. God, I want her. I want her so fuckin' bad I can taste it. Especially now that I've tasted her. And damn, did she taste good_—_fucking amazing. I want back in, now. Right now. I've been hard off and on for almost two hours. I want to be inside her so badly that it hurts. Fuck, Bones_—

"So, I was thinking—well, uhhhhhh—"

She rolled her eyes and reached out, placing her hand over his, tracing her fingers with a feather-light touch over the web of thick veins that fanned over the top of his hand. She smiled as he groaned a heavy sigh at her caress, then she pulled her hand away again. "Spit it out, Booth."

He looked at her and grunted. He knew she was teasing him, knowing full well that he'd gotten her off twice and that he'd been worked up all night, but hadn't let himself go once, and, somehow, despite the happy confusion of his anti-fungal drug haze, he felt a flash of indignation at that particular thought. She was toying with him, and it was starting to piss him off. "You know what I'm saying," he said. He felt a dull ache in his balls growing stronger with each second that her pale eyes stared at him intently, and he knew he needed her, quickly and completely.

Brennan blinked. "No, I don't," she snapped. "And frankly, Booth, I don't really have time to play games here. If you can't just say what you want to say, I'll have to ask you to leave because I have remains to examine."

"Games?" he sputtered, indignant rage continuing to build at her words. "What the fuck do you think we've been doing for two hours, Bones? This has been nothing but one huge game."

"Fine," she nodded, a look of self-righteous arrogance clear on her face. "You're right. Maybe it has been nothing but one huge game. But, you know what? Not anymore. This time, you're not going to be the one to dismiss me like I'm some two-bit whore that you've picked up off the street. I'll be damned if I'm going to let you treat me like that."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" he said as he processed her words. "I've never—"

"Like fuck you haven't," Brennan snapped. "So, you dismissed me twice? Fine. That's fine. I'm a big girl, and I can take it. But, I'll be fucked if that's going to happen a third time. So, you know what? You can get the fuck out, Booth. _You're _the one who's dismissed. Now, leave me alone and get out."

"Oh, hell, no," Booth said as he moved towards her. "You do _not _get to do that. Not now."

"I just did," Brennan hissed. "Now, get away from me."

"I'm here for my last turn," Booth growled. Glaring at her, he added, "I assume you know what I'm referring to here, Bones. Or, do I need to draw you a fucking picture—with an emphasis on the fucking part?"

"Oh, I get what you mean, Booth," Brennan said with a shake of her head. "But, this is no longer about any damn experiment or game. I'm still mad at you, Booth. I'm pissed, as a matter of fact. I can't believe you just walked away from me like that—"

"What the fuck did you want me to do?" he asked in a clearly annoyed voice. "Huh? What the fuck did you want me to do?"

"Not make me feel like a cheap slut who spread her legs for any asshole that she managed to get locked up with on Christmas!" Brennan said, her voice growing louder. Her face was red, and her anger was making her body heave with short gasps that made her tits jiggle with each breath. Booth watched for a few seconds, indulging himself before he shook his head and said, "I know you're not like that."

"Then why did you make me feel like that?" Brennan volleyed back.

"Because!" Booth returned. "What the fuck else was I supposed to do?"

"Let me touch you," Brennan retorted. "For starters, you could've stayed long enough to let me touch you."

"Fine," Booth nodded, as he took off the elf hat he was wearing and tossed it to the ground. Looking up at her, he said, "I'm here now. I'm not going anywhere. Touch me."

"Oh, no," Brennan said with an incensed shake of her head. "That offer is no longer on the table, Booth. There's no way I'm doing that now. Consider the offer rescinded."

"Fine," Booth said a casual shake of his head. "Fine—"

"Good—"

"But, you made an agreement, Bones," Booth interrupted her as he gave her a very predatorial smile. "We had a deal, Bones. And a deal is a deal."

"No—"

"A deal is a deal," Booth repeated. "And, I'm holding you to it. I've still got a third go coming to me, and I intend to take it."

"No way," Brennan insisted. "There's no way in hell I'm ready to continue that stupid experiment."

"You never mentioned having to be ready before, Bones, when we set the ground rules," he said as he leaned in closer, grinding his hips against her as he backed her into the examination table. "As I recall, you said it was up to me to set the place and time, so that's what I'm doing." He took a slow, deep breath. "Those were your rules," he reminded her, then added firmly, but more quietly, "and so I'm not really asking."

At the touch of his body to hers, Brennan felt something snap inside her as she looked at him with bright eyes full of want and arousal. "What are you going to do, Booth? What are you going to do to make me do what you want?"

"I think you already know the answer to that, Bones," Booth said quietly. "We both know you want me inside you, _really _inside you this time as much as I want to be inside you."

"No—"

"You're lying again," Booth said with a smirk clear on his face as he shook his head. "You couldn't do that well before I touched you or tasted you like I have, Bones. Now that apart of me's been inside you twice, and you've come because of me, do you think I don't know when you're lying?"

"Fuck," she suddenly growled as she reached out and fisted a portion of his shirt. "I hate you so fucking much sometimes."

"The feeling's mutual, I can assure you, Bones," Booth said. "Now, can we please stop fucking talking?"

"Isn't that what _I'm _supposed to say to _you_?" Brennan asked with a laugh.

Booth shot her a look and simply said, "Shut up, Bones."

"No way," Brennan breathed, watching him in expectation to see what he'd do when he finally moved. "I've never done what you told me to before so what makes you think I'd do it now, Booth?"

"Because I'm not gonna give you much of a choice in the matter when I'm piling into you in about sixty seconds, Bones," Booth growled. "Right here, right now."

Shaking her head in disbelief, she asked, "Here?" She looked down at the bone table with its warm, yellow underglow and around at the examination equipment scattered around it.

"Yes," Booth groaned, closing the distance between them with a single step so that she could feel his hot breath on her temple as he finally moved and put Brennan out of her misery of trying to figure out what he'd finally do what when he moved. "Here. Right here I'm going to fuck you right here, right now.."

"Now?" she inquired, her face flush and her eyes suddenly dark, her irises a thin ring around her enlarged pupils.

"Yes," he grunted. "Right now, Bones."

"Fuck," she whispered, her eyes widening as she saw a passionate and yet vaguely dark look come over her partner's face, one that intrigued at the same time it sent a shiver down her spine.

"That's the plan, Bones," Booth he said, his voice deeper than she had ever heard it before.

"Yes," she said again, her breathing suddenly having become even more shallow then it already had been as she felt a renewed pulse of warmth and moisture grow steadily stronger between her legs. "Oh, yes."

Booth reached down and hooked his thumbs underneath the elastic waistband of her yoga pants and pants in what was becoming a very familiar move. "Now," he groaned, roughly yanking them off her hips, exposing her damp auburn curls to the cool air of the Bone Room's climate control. He pushed the stretchy fabric down her thighs to her knees, then looked up into her eyes. "Take those off," he grunted, narrowing his dark eyes as he raised his hands to cup her face between them and covered her mouth with his. He kissed her hard, sliding his tongue along the boundary between her lips before, a second later, she relented, opening her mouth with a sigh. He slid his tongue into her mouth, exploring the warm, sweet wet feel of her mouth as the pulse of his want grew more and more imperative. He twirled his tongue against hers and retreated into the space between her front teeth and her lower lip. He felt something strange, a strange, unexpected texture and the vague, tingly taste of copper.

_What the—? _ He pulled away slightly, breaking the kiss, then took a breath and leaned in again, allowing her to grasp at his mouth with hers as he struggled to suppress a smile. _Why that little cheater! I can't believe that she did that. Except I totally can. _Returning her kiss, he moaned into her mouth as her tongue entered his, grinding his pelvis forcefully against her.

"I'm so sick of taking those fucking pants and panties off of you."

"Ohhhhhh," she murmured. "Booth—"

"Off," he said again, apparently no longer able to form utterances longer than a word or two. He felt he was going out of his mind with want, and he couldn't take it any longer. "Take 'em off," he whispered before dropping his head to place hard, sucking kisses along the base of her neck.

Brennan opened her eyes and stared at him. "I'm still pissed off at you."

"Sorry," he murmured. "I won't do it again," he breathed against her neck in between a series of rough kisses. "I swear."

Seeing how his warm brown eyes had darkened to the color of obsidian, the warm yellow light of the room reflecting off of them in a way that made them look impenetrably black, she felt her desire for him tightening into a nearly painful coil of want between her legs. Booth broke off their kiss and, panting as he gasped for breath, took a half step backward, giving her space to toe off her ballet shoes and wiggle out of her pants. He quickly peeled off his tank T-shirt, letting it fall uselessly onto the floor, then reached down and unfastened his heavy brass U.S. Army belt buckle, unbuttoned his slacks, and unzipped his fly. The sharp _zzzipppp _sound caught Brennan's attention, and he smirked when she looked up at the sound, her face flushing even further as he slid his slacks along with red and green boxer shorts off his hips, letting them both fall around his knees as he took a short step forward to close the distance between them once more.

"I hate these damn boxers," she finally managed to utter. "I hate them."

"Why?" Booth breathed against her. "They're festive."

"Fuck festive," Brennan groaned. "They're stupid."

"I'm not wearing them anymore," he said as he kicked them away. "Better?"

She slowly nodded. "Yes."

Grinning at her, he said, "You choose the most stupid fucking things to bitch about, Bones."

Brennan bit back a smirk of her own as she now realized that he was completely naked and so was she but for the tank top that would become infamous after the conclusion of this evening's happenings.

"Booth?"

"Yeah, Bones?"

"I want you," she murmured.

Booth grinned as he savored her words. For several long moments, they stared at one another: Booth holding himself in one hand as he braced himself against the examination table with the other as he looked into her eyes, and Brennan gazing back at him, breaking the stare only long enough to pull her blue tank top over her head and letting it fall onto the opposite edge of the brightly glowing table.

"Booth," she whispered again, her gaze finally dropping from staring into his eyes to staring at his cock, hard and thick as he held it loosely in his hand. She watched him draw his thumb across the shaft, right behind the swollen tip, and her mouth suddenly becoming so dry, that she knew it would hurt to speak—assuming that, at that moment, she could have cobbled together a coherent thought, which she vaguely recognized was exceedingly unlikely under the circumstances. All she could think of what how fucking wonderful his cock looked and how badly she wanted to feel it inside of her.

In that instant, Booth seemed to have recovered his ability to speak, at least temporarily. "Do you see what you do to me?" he asked her, his voice deep and vaguely dark. Grabbing her hand and placing it over his cock, he asked, "Do you feel what you do to me?" His hand fell away from his hard arousal as her slender fingers wrapped around him, and his head fell back as he nearly lost himself simply on account of feeling her touch him. "Can you feel how crazy you make me?" he whispered, his words coming haltingly between each of her lightly measured strokes.

"Yes," she sighed, closing her fingers even more tightly around him.

Booth groaned. "I wanna fuck you," he said, his voice nearly a rumble as it sounded from deep in his chest. "You wanna be fucked?" he asked, nudging her hand away with his left hand as he reached down and caressed the inside of her thigh with the back of his right hand. "You want me to fuck you, Bones?"

"Ohhh yesss," she hissed, her breath catching in her throat as he moved his hand over her thigh, pulled her leg up and draped it loosely over his right hip. "Do...do you want to fuck me, Booth?" she asked.

"I've never wanted to fuck someone as badly as I want to fuck you right now," he grunted back, reaching around to palm the small of her back with one hand as he bent his knees slightly and guided himself into her with the other. "Never." He exhaled a long breath he hadn't, until that moment, realized he'd been holding as he slowly and steadily pressed his way through her tight, indescribably wet warmth. "_Ohhhhh_," he moaned, so overcome by the intense sensations that he swore he saw stars rain before his eyes. "Oh, fuck, Bones. _Fuuuucccckkkk_," He closed the last fraction of an inch between them with a firm push before slowly pulling out again.

"Oh, _Booooottthhh_," Brennan moaned, gasping as the incredible fullness she felt suddenly felt empty as he pulled out again. She sucked in a deep breath and threw her head back as he thrust into her again, harder, quicker and more roughly this time. "Oh fuck, Booth!" she cried, sliding one of her hands off of the exam table and bringing it around to caress his ass, the taut, muscular structure of which she'd noted that afternoon and had been thinking about for hours. As he pounded in and out of her, filling her and stretching her in a way she couldn't remember ever having been filled and stretched before, her fingers curled and she raked her fingernails over the round of his ass.

"Oh _fuck, _Bones," Booth groaned, his eyes rolling back into his head a little as he felt her nails dig into his flesh. "I'm fucking you," he asked, his voice resonating in her ear as his warm breath, hard and uneven, tickled her neck. "I'm fucking you," he repeated, almost as if he were trying to convince himself that the sensation of feeling buried balls deep into wasn't a dream.

"I know," she whimpered. "Keep fucking me. Oh, please. Don't stop. Don't stop fucking me."

"Do you like how that feels, Bones?" he asked. "Because I sure as fuck do,"he muttered more to himself than for her benefit. "I love how it feels, me fucking you. I've always wanted to fuck you, Bones—since that very first night. I've always wanted this, I've always wanted you. You feel so fuckin' amazing, Bones," he whispered, bending his head a little and nipping at her neck, dragging his lower teeth across her skin as she hissed in response. "So tight...and so...fuckin'...amazing," he added, every few syllables punctuated with a soft grunt as he pistoned into her.

"_Yesssss_..._ohhhhh_...fuck, Booth!" She closed her eyes, unable to focus her mind on anything other than the incredible sensation of his thick cock sliding in and out of her, his rapid and slick movements so powerful that, though she wanted to hold his ass with both hands, she was afraid to let go of the table behind her because she wasn't sure she would be able to hold herself up otherwise. "Ohh, good. Sooooo fucking goooood..._ohhhhhh_..."

"Oh God, Bones," he groaned, forcing his eyes open so he could see her face, her expressions shifting with each thrust he made. "You feel so fuckin' good, baby," he grunted softly, closing his lips over her earlobe and giving it a wet, sucking pull.

"Ohhhh...ohh, _Boooothhh—_"

Feeling him sucking her ear hard enough that it stung, together with the unyielding momentum with which he stroked into her and the vague sensation of him pressing his hand against the small of her back, holding her tightly against him as he braced himself against the table with his other hand—all those feelings combined in a dizzying array of sensations that sent her headlong into a rapid spiral, and as her arousal peaked, all these sensations swirling around her and drawing her even deeper towards a blinding release, she no longer had a mind to control the words or sounds that fell from her lips.

"_Booottthhh_," she cried out softly. "Oh, Booth—"

"Come for me, baby," he whispered, moving his right hand from the small of her back, walking his fingers around to wrap themselves around her left hip, using his forearm to press her even more tightly against him as he felt her falling close to the edge. "We've been here before, Bones. I know when you're close. I've felt in on my fingers, on my tongue, and it feels even better with my cock. So, please, come on, Bones," he moaned in encouragement, his mouth hanging open as he pounded into her with a soft grunt. "Let go, baby—just come."

At that moment, feeling his pubis grind against her most sensitive flesh as he pressed as deeply into her as he could go, Brennan's head fell back once more and her groan became choked, swallowed into a sharp, unfettered cry as her body clenched hard around him before she shattered into a hundred tiny flutters.

"Oh _God_, Booth!" she cried in a shout of passionate exultation. "_Oh, my God_..."

Had Booth been in his right mind at that point, he would have laughed, but from the moment her muscles clenched around him and she broke apart in his arms, his thoughts were eclipsed by a flood of feelings and sensations that were beyond words. Somewhere in the distance, a tiny flickering fragment of his rational mind heard her exclamation, but at the moment it fell from her lips, Booth could neither see, nor think nor hear a thing except his own imminent release.

"_Oh fuuuuuuccccck, Bones,_" he groaned, following her over the edge as he let go, his eyes clenched shut as he flooded into her. "Oh God," he whispered into her creamy neck as the last pulses of his release faded and he finally opened his eyes.

Several long moments passed as he held her against him and she let go of the table, finally bringing her right hand around to cup his ass.

"Oh," she said in an almost inaudibly low voice. "Oh, Booth," she said, exhaling a controlled breath through her pursed lips. "Ohhhh—"

"Yeah," he sighed, an awkward laugh falling from his lips as he arched his eyebrows. "That was—wow." He shook his head as he pulled away, wincing slightly as he slipped out of her. "Oh, God, Bones—that was just so...I can't even say..."

"Yes," she agreed, her voice still breathless and her face, neck and shoulders deeply flushed. "It was," she admitted with a chuckle.

A couple of minutes of silence passed between them as they each regained their bearings.

Booth broke the silence. "Walk-off home run by Booth in the bottom of the ninth with two outs," he said with a smirk. "In spite of the fact that you cheated again, Bones."

Brennan narrowed her eyes and shook her head. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Booth said. "If you remember when my tongue was stuck in your mouth about twenty minutes ago?"

"Yes—" she said vaguely.

"I felt where you bit yourself," Booth chuckled at her. "I had no idea you were such a biter, Bones."

Brennan flushed. "I don't suppose it really matters now, does it, since—well, maybe we can just say it was good practice for the next three months since I know I'll have to bite my tongue in any discussions that even remotely touch on issues of theology or organized religion."

"Damn straight," he said. Then with a smile, he added, "Oh my fucking God, that was totally awesome, you little cheater, you."

"Well," she said with a smile. "Yeah, it sort of was," she smiled. She paused and then frowned a bit as she said, "I'm still pissed off at you, just so that you know."

"Awwww, Bones," Booth whined a bit into her shoulder. "Come on. Doesn't my Secret Santa gift make up for it at all?"

"Maybe if you'd been wearing the elf hat when you fucked me," Brennan said thoughtfully. "Maybe."

Arching an eyebrow at her, he said, "I think we can make that happen, Bones."

"Can we?" she asked prettily, suppressing a smile.

Nodding, Booth said with a grin, "Yeah. I think we can."

* * *

><p>Approximately an hour later, Booth ran his hand through his sweat-damp hair as he turned away, opening the door to the Bone Room before pausing to catch his breath while he glanced down the hall. He shot Brennan a sheepish grin as she raised Angela's elf hat in the air and placed it happily on her head. He shook his head and then nodded his goodbyes since he knew the sun would be rising in a short amount of time, and their mutual agreement to start a new experiment would have to wait until after the quarantine ended.<p>

As it was, Brennan knew she'd have to spend a fair amount of time in the morning going through security footage and backlooping the logs so that no one saw anything that they shouldn't. It wouldn't be an easy task, but Brennan knew she'd do what she had to do to keep whatever it was between the two partners just between the two of them for now.

For his part, Booth could feel the heavy rise and fall of his chest as he called on one of his old sniper techniques to slow his breathing and heart rate. _Oh my God, _he thought again, the same thought echoing over and over in his head as it had off and on for much of the past hour. _That was so un-fucking-believeable and so unspeakably awesome. _He took a long, deep breath and, with a quick backward glance at Brennan as she pulled her tank top over her head, he reluctantly stepped out into the hall. _Though, to be honest, if I can do that with her again, I'd be willing to listen to a little bit of Jesus-is-a-zombie and God-is-a-myth crap from time to time. Because that—those were the hottest, most amazing, mind-shattering fucks of my entire life. What a fucking awesome Christmas morning. I guess I have been a very good boy, after all, since I got everything that I wanted from Santa Claus this year_—_and will again later, as soon as we get the fuck out of here._

He began walking down the hall towards the men's room—a part of him surprised that he could even stand, never mind walk, after an experience like that, and another part of him thinking it would do him some good to splash some cold water on his face so that he could clean up—when he suddenly realized his fly was open. He slowed his gait and looked down to zip himself up when a deep, sonorous voice called out to him.

"Agent Booth," Dr. Goodman said, glancing down at Booth's hands before snapping his head up again to meet his eyes. He paused for a moment, wondering why the agent was zipping his fly on the way _to _the men's washroom. _Ahhhh, _he noted silently, trying to suppress a smirk as he scanned Booth's darkened eyes, flush skin, mussed hair, and slack-jawed face. _Very interesting. Hmmm. So, I'm going to hazard a guess that Dr. Brennan is not in Ms. Montenegro's office catching up on her beauty rest. Intriguing..._

"You aren't having trouble sleeping, are you?" he asked, his voice steady and even, though a look of recognition twinkled behind his eyes in the half-light of the corridor.

"Yeah," Booth said awkwardly, smoothing one hand over the flap of his slacks while the other rubbed his belly in a circular motion, his cheeks flushed and the tips of his ears burning as he noted the flicker in Goodman's eyes. "It's the medicine, I guess," he managed with a casual shrug that was a bit too casual. _Oh, fuck. Goodman_—_of course, it had to be fucking Goodman. But, wait...he doesn't know, right? I mean, it can't be that obvious. Right? Naaaawww_—

"Yes, well," Goodman said. "I'm sorry to hear that, Agent Booth." He stopped and tilted his head as he gave the younger man a very knowing look. "Hmmm, that's quite strange though."

"What is?" Booth managed to ask without his voice cracking _too _badly.

"It's just that I don't recall the gentleman from the CDC mentioning insomnia as one of the known side-effects of the voriconazole, fluconazole, imidazole, amphotericin B cocktail they administered to us. And supposedly neither of the three drugs administered orally are known to cause such adverse reactions," Goodman mused. He stared at Booth with a narrow, piercing look taking a small amount of petty delight in making the younger man squirm. "But I suppose we all respond differently to treatment." _Well, I can't say I'm surprised, _he thought. _He's a very handsome and extremely charming man, and she's a very attractive, intelligent woman, and, well—_

"What?" Booth blanched. "Oh, really? How about that then? So, yeah, well," he mumbled. "Maybe it's just the stress of, you know, maybe being exposed to that lung fungus and missing Christmas_—_you know, with my son and all." Booth had to stop himself from wincing at the lameness of his remarks. _Jesus, I might as just write out a full confession here and now_—

"Of course," Goodman said, narrowing his eyes and biting back a smirk. "Well, then, I hope you don't mind me observing, but you certainly don't seem particularly tense at this point, so I trust you found something to help relax you," he deadpanned. "I don't mean a pharmaceutical sleep aid, of course," he clarified with a grin. "Sometimes it's just a question of finding the right kind of activity to put a man in a more relaxed state of mind."

Booth grimaced slightly, his forehead wrinkling at the archaeologist's words. _Oh God, _he cringed. _He knows, doesn't he? He totally does. Shit. Shit. Shit. That's why he's torturing me this way. How am I ever going to look him in the eyes again, especially with Bones standing there next to me? He's gonna look at her, look at me, and he's gonna be thinking how me and Bones pounded one out in the lab on Christmas Eve when everybody else was snoozing. And, shit_—_now I've got to tell her. How in the fuck do I tell her that her boss knows we were fucking in the lab? Shit, this is not good_—_not good at all. Awww... fuck._

"I'm quite tired," Goodman said as he watched the inner gears of Booth's mind grind in turmoil. Deciding that he'd tortured the FBI agent enough, he gave a sharp nod as he said, "So I'll just be going back to bed. Goodnight, Agent Booth."

_Good night, indeed, _he smirked to himself. _Good for you, Agent Booth. Good for you—and, I suspect, good for Dr. Brennan. _Goodman winked and began to walk away.

"Goodnight," Booth blurted out. His eyes followed Goodman as the latter continued down the corridor and disappeared into Brennan's office, which had become his and Booth's bedroom for the duration of their holiday quarantine. _Oh Lord, _he groaned silently.

Turning around, Booth walked back to the Bone Room, opened the door, and called out softly, "Hey, Bones? I, uhhh, I need to tell you something real quick—"

* * *

><p><em><strong>The End<strong>_  
>(for scenario #3)<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>To Be Continued<strong>_  
>(for the series)<p>

* * *

><p><strong>AN****:**

_So, was it as good for you as it was for us? _**::snort:: **

_Will you ever think of "Man in the Fallout Shelter" the same way again after reading this? Because now, when Booth shows up on the platform in that elf hat and leans in close to Brennan, you'll think, "I know where his other hand is," and then you'll ask, "Did he really wear the hat the 2nd time?"_

**::grin::**

_Seriously, though, we hope you enjoyed this piece. We believe it sufficiently festive and in keeping with the time-honored Roman tradition of Saturnalia._

_We've got several more "Very Bad Idea" pieces in the hopper (next one in queue: our M-rated take on what might have happened after the fade to black at the end of "Intern in the Incinerator"). We also owe you cool cats the last two chapters of "Cognitive Dissonance" and we've got a new piece in the works, a sequel to "When She Ran Away" that deals with what happens when Brennan attends black-tie military gala at which Booth is awarded the Silver Star for gallantry in Afghanistan (also, as usual, an M-rated piece, which means you probably already know how it will end)._

_Anyways, reviews are the fuel that feeds our writing engines. Please top us up so we can keep giving you the stuff you like._

_All you need to do is click that little review button. Oh stop, you know exactly which one we're talking about. Yes, silly. That one right down there. _

_Oh, yeah, baby. That's it. Uh-huh. Oh, yeah. _

**::snicker::**

_Thanks! And happy new year, everybody!_


	13. 13—Pulling the Goalie, Pt I

**A Very Bad Idea**

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><p><strong>By:<strong> dharmamonkey & Lesera128

**Rated: **M

**Disclaimer: **Ummm, nope, we still don't own anything. We have, however, apparently become squatters in the sandbox that we crashed... so, umm... yeah. There we go.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: "We're back, baby!" **_Yes, at long last, here's another dose* of _**dharmasera **_goodness for your reading pleasure. Okay, so this is not the scenario we thought would be #4, but our muse (_**Lesera128**_'s in particular) really bit down on this one hard. (And, no, that would not be a thinly-veiled metaphor, because we don't really do that kind of thing.) _

_* Yes, this is also another piece involving characters under the influence of mind-altering substances. However, we promise that all controlled substances in this piece were administered only to the characters to whom they were prescribed and were used in strict accordance with the prescriber's instructions. No laws were broken in the creation of this stoned!fic._

**UNF Alert: **_Yes, folks. You're reading a Dharmasera fic. So who are we kidding? This piece is going to be unf. Which is why you're here. Now, this one won't be quite as angry as Scenario #1 (or the first couple of chapters of Scenario #2, for that matter), but there will be a bit of snarky B&B banter—nothing too mean or angsty, though . If you don't like that kind of thing, move along. If you do, then read on. Keep that fire extinguisher handy, folks, because this piece is gonna get a bit warm. (Especially if you dig the whole hockey!Booth thing the way _**dharmamonkey** _does_._)_

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><p><strong>IV. Pulling the Goalie, Part I<strong>

**Pertinent Details on Scenario #4****: **Set at the beginning of episode 4x13: "Fire in the Ice."

* * *

><p>The evening had not turned out as she thought it would. As Dr. Temperance Brennan concentrated on navigating her sedan through the suburban streets of Washington D.C., she contemplated how the evening had progressed in a far different manner than she'd anticipated when she'd agreed to accompany Cam and Sweets to the Potomac Ice Rink to support Booth and Wendall in their hockey game. Glancing in her rear-view mirror, she was only half-listening to the very strange conversation that the two hockey players sitting in the back of her car were currently having as they drove towards their destination.<p>

"That's a pretty cool looking thing, Agent Booth," a very dazed Wendell Bray said as he smiled in the general direction of where Booth sat on the opposite side of the back seat in Brennan's silver Mercedes.

At Wendell's words, Brennan chanced another look in her rear-view mirror just in time to see a likewise very similarly dazed Seeley Booth respond to the young intern's comments with an very satisfied grin of his own.

"Yeah, it _is _pretty awesome, isn't it?" Booth said as he lifted his arm slightly in the air to emphasize his point.

"Totally," Wendell agreed. "I'm just surprised it took them as long as it did to put the cast on," Wendell said. "We were there, like, forever, man."

Unable to help herself at Wendell's comment, Brennan piped up, "While your description of the amount of time we were at the ER is somewhat of a gratuitous exaggeration, the general sentiment behind your statement is accurate. The amount of time we had to spend in the emergency room _was _excessive. However, the fault, in many ways, was not that of the medical personnel but that of the patient since, in fact, the inordinate amount of time we had to spend there was because Booth insisted that they put his hand in a hard cast instead of the soft cast that the attending physician, two physicians assistants, and three registered nurses suggested."

"Well, duh, Bones," Booth said as he vaguely looked in the direction of the front seat. "Of course I wasn't going to get a soft cast. Soft casts suck 'cause you can't write on them like this one." He blinked several times as he stared forward, then shook his head, and smiled as his earlier thoughts returned. "Yeah, so, Wendell—tomorrow I'm gonna go out and get me a nice set of Sharpie markers...a full set, mind ya. I want one that has all the colors. I know that they're mega expensive, but you gotta have the right tools for the right job, and I wanna do this one up all Flyers—orange and black, baby!—and, if there's room, maybe the Phillies and then the Steelers, and—"

His voice trailed off as he realized that his brilliant plan for plaster-cast fan art was going to be hindered somewhat by the fact that the one hand he had to work with was his left hand. He wasn't even sure he could draw a proper Flyers' logo with his left hand. _Hmmm...might have to call in reinforcements on that one. Maybe Parker can help, _he mused. _Yeah, that might work. I can tell him what to draw, and he can outline it for me, and then I can color it with my left hand. That might be doable..._

Booth found his mental plan-making interrupted as he refocused one what Brennan was saying to him. "Well, that's all well and good, Booth, but just so you know, I'm going to remind you that you said that getting the hard cast was your idea when the Vicodin that the doctor gave you in the ER wears off," Brennan said. "It was your idea to get the hard cast, even though with a boxer's fracture of your metacarpals—such as the two that you sustained—it was quite unnecessary."

Rolling his eyes at her, Booth said, "First, I'm not a boxer, Bones—even if I did impersonate one that one time when you went with me all dolled-up in that really hot red dress that you wore."

Wendell, grinning a bit, turned to Booth and said, "Dude, you do know that you just said Dr. B was hot?"

"No, I didn't," Booth said, turning to face Wendell with a serious look on his face. He held it only for a moment before he broke into a conspiratorial grin. "I said she was wearing a really hot red dress—and she was, this one time when we went to Vegas."

"You two went to Vegas?" Wendell asked, some excitement coming into his face as he contemplated the meaning of Booth's words. "Together? I knew it! Ha! We all knew it. How long has this been going on, huh? Some of us thought you two might be sneaking around on the sly, but we weren't for sure...so, you two have _so _been getting it on, haven't you—?"

"Mr. Bray!" Brennan snapped, a shrillness coming into her voice as she glanced into the rear-view mirror again.

Booth winced a bit as he recognized the quintessential 'bitch mode' pitch in her tone. _Oh, God...here it comes._

"While I understand that you are suffering from the effects of a severe concussion, the effects of which may have dulled your normally sharp mental processes—and seemingly lowered inhibitions from the injuries you suffered on the ice rink today—as your professor, I must still insist that a certain amount of decorum be maintained."

"Aww, Bones, cut the kid some slack," Booth groaned immediately, not letting Wendell have a chance to respond to the verbal browbeating that Brennan had just served to her intern. Wendell, ashen-faced and feeling duly chastised at Brennan's words, shot Booth a look of gratitude at his words. Somewhat heartened by his friend's response, and the scowl that had taken up residence on Brennan's face at almost exactly the same time, Booth continued, "He's just saying what everyone else in the entire friggin' Jeffersonian and Hoover have been saying for years. I mean, Bones—come on, why do you think that none of the guys at the Hoover—with that one maritime-inspired exception that we don't really need to discuss, thank you very much—don't have the balls ever to hit on you even though you're the most beautiful damn thing to grace those hallways since—well, since forever. You want to know the reason why? Because, okay, I'll tell you—they think you're off the market, you know, and have been for a while. All of them see us together, they way we look at each other and finish each other's sentences and everything else that's a part of that thing we always do, and you know what? They know. Even if we don't want to admit it, they know and think I'd kick their sorry asses if they even thought of asking you out. So what the kid over there's suggesting, well, it's not exactly like it's something earth-shattering, because, let's be honest—they'd probably be right." He stopped, tilted his head as he replayed the words he just spouted off in his mind, and satisfied with his grasp of the gist of what he said, he smiled with a nod. "Yeah."

"Be that as it may, Booth," Brennan said, as her own brain struggled to process the deluge of verbal stream-of-consciousness thoughts that Booth had just slung at her. "I'm sure that if you weren't under the influence of Vicodin as you are at this moment, I'm certain you would be less than comfortable having Mr. Bray talk about your personal life in such a familiar manner."

"Oh, geez," Booth groaned. "First, of all, I'm not on Vicodin, Bones—so _ha_. I'm not certain about whatever it was that they gave me, but it was called hydrocodone, not Vicodin, Miss Smartypants, so ha!"

"Hydrocodone is the non-brand name for Vicodin, Booth," Brennan sighed. "Now—"

"Okay, you know what...whatever," Booth said, waving his good hand. "Quite trying to trip me up, Bones, with your super squint trickery there. The point is, as I was trying to say earlier, that you don't have to be such a bitch to Wendell. He's a good kid. We both know that—whether it's in the lab or on the ice, he's one of your better junior squints. Besides, and secondly, it's not like he came right out and said that everyone thinks we've been fucking each other for years—"

Brennan stared open-mouthed into the rear-view mirror, clearly shocked by Booth's blatant words as this time there was no doubt to the meaning of what he'd just said since he was so brazen in its wording.

Grinning at her reaction, and quite pleased with himself at being able to elicit such a response from her, Booth pointed at her again. "See, like I said, if he'd said that, then I'd see why you have to go all superbitch on him. In fact, he'd kind of deserve it, really, if he actually said something that was that rude, and I'd have no problems knocking him on his ass if he had. But since he didn't, because he's a good kid, maybe you can do everyone a favor here and simmer down up there, huh?"

Her blue eyes flashed with a strong response at Booth's words, but Brennan remained quiet as she clenched her fingers around the steering wheel. However, the meaning behind the look she gave Booth, had he noticed it, would've been quite clear to anyone who was even halfway in their right mind: _Fine_. _I'll be quiet for now, but when we're alone,_ _you're going to pay for that one, Booth, and pay dearly._

Waving her off with a sigh of his own, Booth turned back to Wendell and smiled as he said, "See? She's not nearly as scary as you squints think she is. You just have to know how to handle her, that's all."

Her lips remained pursed into a fairly thin line, Brennan's facial expressions were clearly visible to Wendell in the rear-view mirror. More alert than his friend and fellow hockey player, Wendell knew the facial expressions countered her silence. He knew that she was hearing every single thing that Booth was saying and cataloguing it away for a future opportunity during which she _would _finally respond to her partner's bravado.

Wendell glanced up once in nervousness and then told Booth in a quiet voice, hopeful that Brennan wouldn't be able to hear him as he said, "Maybe you can get away with that, Booth, but the rest of us aren't quite that brave."

"Or stupid," Brennan muttered from the front seat instantly making it clear that, despite Wendell's efforts to be quieter, she'd heard every word he'd spoken.

However, both men didn't seem to hear her as Booth shook his head slightly and continued talking.

"See, Wendell, the thing you've got to understand about Bones is that—well, I know that there's a lot of things that you can't say about her because she's your professor and all—but, since I'm not one of her students, I don't have to worry about getting into the same kinda trouble as you and so I can say things like I did—"

"And not get killed?" Wendell finished for him.

"Well, yeah," Booth chuckled. "And, when I want to, I can tell it like it is. So, I have absolutely no problem whatsoever telling you that she _did _wear this completely hot red dress this one time that we went undercover in Vegas a couple years back," Booth said, his voice trailing off in appreciation as he remembered how awesomely Brennan had filled out the dress's bodice.

Noticing that Booth seemed lost in his memory, Wendell couldn't help himself as he lowered his tone and prayed Brennan couldn't hear his question when he asked, "How hot?"

"Smoking," Booth said. "Completely and totally fuckably hot," he nodded. "It had this nice deep V-neck goin' on that really accentuated those bodacious ta-ta's of hers, and, yeah." Stopping to pause for a minute to savor the mental picture of her in that dress and the quick peeks he'd sneaked that night, Booth let out a a toothy grin as he said, "Let's just say that when she was wearing that little dress of hers, I wouldn't have minded being one of her students so she could punish me with detention so long as she wore that sexy teacher getup she looked liked she'd been poured into...it was so hot."

However, once again, neither Booth nor Wendell could seem to catch a break from Brennan's seemingly perfect sense of acute hearing. Shaking her head as she ignored the compliments that had been a part of Booth's latest ramble, she focused only on the punitive aspects of his comments. "Oh, I'm going to punish you all right," Brennan again muttered from the front seat. "I'm going to completely and utterly punish you as soon as I drop Wendell off, Booth—so don't you dare worry about that. I'm _definitely _going to make certain you've got what's coming to you...and then some."

Although Brennan knew that there was no way that either of the back seat's occupants could've heard what she'd just muttered to herself, for a split second, Booth stared at the rear-view mirror, his eyes widened a little, and then he blinked a couple of times. For a couple of seconds, they seemed to lock eyes via the mirror before Booth smiled and looked over at Wendell.

"So, you know that little hat she was wearing earlier?" Booth asked Wendell, a bright twinkle in his eye as his mind finally registered the significance of her remark—because Booth _had _actually heard every single word she'd uttered—and he felt a raw flash in his gut as he considered the ways he wanted her to punish him. He looked up and out of the corner of his eye as he imagined how it would feel to have her punish him by bringing him to the edge of release—perhaps by sucking or jerking him off but then backing off again just before the moment of glory. _Who am I kidding? I know exactly what that fucking feels like. She's been torturing me with a case of blue balls for the better part of five years._ He blinked away the thoughts as he saw the crooked grin on his younger companion's face. "Yeah, you know—the cute one with the little puffball on top?"

"Yeah," Wendell nodded. "Sure. She was wearing it during the game. And, you're right—it _was _cute."

"Well, you know what—" Booth began, lowering his voice in a very conspiratorial manner, although he knew it was probably just a gesture for show anyway since he knew that Brennan had heard every word that had been muttered...and so had he. "You know the only thing I could think of when I saw her wearing that was how friggin' cute it was...but as cute as the hat was, you know what's even cuter?"

"No," Wendell said, clearly at a loss as he shrugged his response. "What?"

"Her ass," Booth said, quite pleased with himself as he nodded again at Wendell, a new look coming onto his face, one that seemed to indicate that he'd just let the younger man into a greatly guarded secret. "She has a great fucking ass. Now, don't get me wrong...spring and summer are great for different reasons when she's prancing around the lab in those tight skirts or skimpy tank tops of hers where you know if she just moved a little bit more in one direction those righteous knockers of hers would go spilling out of her top if we were just a bit more lucky. But, I gotta admit that I love it when it's wintertime because she wears jeans more often—kinda like that tight pair of dark blue flared jeans that she was wearing tonight? She had the sweater on to cover it up, and I know she thinks she can hide from me by doing that, but I saw it—I totally saw her ass tonight—several times, actually—and it looked abso-fuckin'-lutely awesome. Very tight and very grab-able, you know?"

Wendell's eyes widened a bit at Booth's words, but he found himself nodding in spite of himself.

Leaning back a bit against the seat, Booth closed his eyes as he pictured Brennan's tight jeans in his mind's eye. He visualized running his hands over the round halves of her tight, apple-shaped ass and giving that ass a squeeze. _I wonder what she would feel like if her ass were in my lap...hmmm...pretty awesome, I bet. I think she'd feel fucking great...that little ass of hers hitting my thighs when she was sliding up and down my dick. Because, I mean, I'm not sure why it's been such a big deal before, because I know I'm not supposed to say or think these deliciously dirty thoughts that I've always had about her, but right now, it feels kinda okay to admit it. Better than okay, really_—_it actually feels really good and since I'm not certain why I didn't do this a long time ago, what the fuck? So, I'd place my hands on her hips and help her just a little bit, and no matter how good everything else felt, it'd be hard to forget that it all started with her ass 'cause, let's face it_— "Yeah," he muttered again with a bit of a wistful sigh coming into his voice as he let his thoughts trail off. "She's always had _such _a great ass."

Fortunately, for everyone involved, neither Brennan nor Wendell had enough time to even contemplate some type of response to Booth's most recent set of what could be, at best, described as a rather uncouth set of comments since Brennan's GPS indicated that they were approaching Wendell's mother's home.

Biting back another sigh as she shook her head in what was becoming an increasing level of frustrated exasperation, Brennan turned on her car's blinker and headed down a rather nondescript residential road as she guided them closer and closer to their destination. "We're almost at the domicile of your mother, Mr. Bray," Brennan said as she glanced at Wendell in her rear-view mirror. "You should prepare yourself to exit forthwith."

Looking over at him, Booth shook his head as he said, "Ahh, how about that, Wendell?" Booth grinned. "Home sweet home, huh?"

"But, you were just getting to the good part, weren't you?" Wendell asked, a bit of regret creeping onto his face.

Giving Brennan's intern and fellow hockey player a toothy grin, Booth nodded as he said, "Rotten timing, kid." He wiggled the fingers of his left hand into a fist as he thought again of how nice it would feel to squeeze that ass of hers. _Her ass is perfectly sized for me. Definitely. If I can palm a basketball with these hands, I can totally take those soft, round babies in my hands and give 'em a nice, slow squeeze_,_ slap it a little maybe and see that ivory skin of her pink up around faint outline of my handprint, then pull 'em apart a little before I squoosh 'em together, and see the way that ass-cleavage of hers really works. And how fuckin' awesome will it look and feel when I'm takin' her from behind, worshipping that epic ass of hers the whole time?_ He then grinned as he looked up at Wendell and said, "And, just FYI, you're right, I was, oh yeah, I _definitely _was getting to the best part. But, that's just how it goes sometimes, right? So, take care, and maybe next time, huh?'

As Brennan pulled the silver Mercedes in front of a rather nondescript house that her GPS indicated was her intern's final destination, Wendell looked back at Booth with a sad smile as he said, "Why do I get the feeling that there weren't be a next time?"

Putting the car in park, it was Brennan who cut off Booth sharply as she answered for him, "Because you're correct in your assumption that there won't be a 'next time,' Mr. Bray—there _definitely _won't be."

Getting out of the car, Brennan darted up the steps and rang the doorbell. She greeted Wendell's mother with a firm nod before she turned around and pointed at the car. The pair talked for a few moments, and Booth watched curiously as Wendell prepared to exit the car.

As he watched Brennan talking to Wendell's mother, if Booth didn't know any better, he thought for a few brief seconds that perhaps his partner had angled her posture so that her back was to him on purpose giving him a bird's eye view of the attributes he'd been commenting on so enthusiastically just a few moments earlier. _Hmmmm_? Booth thought as he watched Brennan. _Oh, Jeez. _He felt his mouth go a bit dry as he saw her seemingly begin to fidget with the hem of her black sweater. She continued talking with Mrs. Bray, but as she did, it seemed as if her fingers were just randomly tugging at the edge of the black wool. Booth's eyes narrowed as he watched her continue to stroke the hem of her sweater before she casually took both hands and adjusted the it slightly so that it was rolled up just above her waist. _What in the hell is she doing? Wait—she's not...she wouldn't actually be teasing me here? She wouldn't do_—_she wouldn't know to do that, right? I mean, why would she shake that killer ass of hers just to drive me nuts? Naw. She's not that...no...right?_

Booth sat there in flummoxed silence as he considered the look that Brennan had just shot him. Not certain what to make of it, his brow furrowed in confusion as he watched the pair of women walk up to the car. He absentmindedly waved to Wendell's mother when Brennan referred to him, but he was still trying to make up his mind if he'd actually seen what he thought he'd seen.

_Did she shake her ass at me or not? _Booth thought. _I mean...I don't know why she would do that...but, I think she did it. She actually took that tight ass of hers, turned it when she knew I would see it, and shook her moneymaker like it was amateur night at the local titty bar. Right? That's what happened...wasn't it? Or, is this shit that I'm on just better than I thought it was? Maybe that's it. Maybe one of the side effects of the pain meds is hallucinations? And horniness. When the fuck did I get this horny? I mean, yeah...I've always wanted to fuck Bones, but Jesus, Booth. Get a grip here. I mean...fuck._

Struggling to make sense of the situation, Booth was almost completely oblivious as Wendell got out of the car and walked up the steps of his mother's brownstone, leaning on her shoulder for balance as he held the railing with one hand. Brennan stood at the edge of the sidewalk and watched them after she'd called out goodnight to both of them, lingering for a moment after Mrs. Bray closed the door behind them. When she finally got back into the car, jerking the car into gear as she pulled back into the street, she glanced up at Booth in the rear-view mirror and leveled a hard stare at him.

"What?" he finally asked, her glare enough to jar him out of his mind-bending query as to either she did/she didn't shake her ass at him on the front steps of Wendell's mother's house. "What'd I do now?"

"Nothing," Brennan said through clenched teeth. _Because we're not talking about this shit that you pulled in front of my __intern__ Booth until I'm damned good and ready...and not a minute before, got it?_

Several minutes went by in a complete and uneasy silence, Brennan listening to the BBC newscast on her XM radio as Booth sat in the back, shifting his hips against the leather seat as he stared into his lap, then at his cast, rotating it back and forth as he admired the way the light of the streetlamps reflected against the clean, white plaster. He began to grow impatient once again as thoughts of his 'did she/didn't she shake her ass' conundrum faded away, but his realization of his sexual restlessness had not. In an effort to distract himself, Booth let his left leg bounce up and down against the floor, intermittently brushing against the back of Brennan's seat with a soft thump each time he moved. The rhythmic pattern amused him. However, by the seventh or eighth time he did it, another sigh from the front seat drew his attention. Looking forward, he arched an eyebrow as he saw Brennan's clearly annoyed blue eyes starring back at him in the rear-view mirror.

"Booth," she growled. "That is _extremely _irritating. Please stop it."

"Why?" he asked, although he temporarily stilling his restless leg with his hand.

"Because I asked you to stop kicking the back of my chair like this is some seat in coach you've been sitting in for four hours without any respite to stretch your legs. We're almost to your apartment—" she began to explain, but found herself cut off when Booth gave her an evil grin and started moving his leg again.

"Then, you can just deal with it until we get there if we won't be in the car for much longer," he smiled.

"Booth—"

"What?" he responded in a very innocent voice.

"If you don't stop kicking the back of my seat right now, I'm going to pull over and make you walk home," Brennan threatened.

Booth's brow furrowed for a few seconds as he considered her threat. He then looked up and said, "You wouldn't."

"Try me," she offered.

"You're telling me that you would abandon me, your partner, in my impaired state during my hour of need?" Booth asked.

"If you keep purposely flaunting my request that you cease and desist in your efforts to kick the back of my chair, yes," she told him. "That's exactly what I mean."

"Oh, fine," Booth grumbled as he stilled his leg once more. "Fine. There. I stopped. Happy now?"

"Yes," Brennan responded.

Rolling his eyes again, Booth muttered, "Geez, you don't need to be so bitchy about things, Bones. I mean, what's got you so grumpy, Miss Cranky-Pants?"

"That's not my name," she responded instantly.

"Hey, if the nickname fits, wear it, huh?" he asked as their eyes met in the rear-view mirror. "Because you sure as hell are being all kinds of mega grumpy tonight."

"I'm not grumpy," she snapped. "And, now, I would actually prefer it you'd resume your earlier silence, which was much preferable to listening to your inane, inappropriate, opiate-influenced drivel because you're giving me a headache."

"I thought you said that was 'extremely irritating,'" he said.

"No," she snorted. "What I found extremely irritating was the constant, rapid motion of your leg against the back of my seat, which seems suggestive of a case of Willis-Ekbom disease, a well-documented neurological disorder, by the way."

"Wait," he grunted. "Are you saying I'm some kind of nutcase there, Bones?"

She chuckled, glancing at him in the mirror and returning her gaze to the street. "No, Booth," she said patronizingly. "A neurological disorder is not the same as a mental illness. In this case, the disease appears to be a consequence of dysfunction in the dopamine and iron systems of the body, since dopamine- and iron-related markers have also been demonstrated in the cerebrospinal fluid of individuals with the disorder, which is more commonly referred to as Restless Leg Syndrome. Studies have shown a clear connection between these two systems which is demonstrated by the preponderance of low iron levels in the _substantia nigra _of RLS patients."

"So, you're saying I have a disease?" he asked, his brow knit in confusion.

"No," she said with a smirk. "I'm simply saying that the irritating motion of your lower extremities behind my seat reminds me of the symptoms of Restless Leg Syndrome."

"Huh," Booth grunted, squirming against the leather seat, enough so that the leather actually squeaked beneath him. "Well, ya know Bones, I _am _feeling a little restless in some parts of my lower body, but umm, not in my legs."

_Yeah, _he thought with a smirk. _Restless. Hornier than I can remember being in friggin' forever. I'm about a quarter the way to a really fierce hard on here, Bones, and the only reason I'm not there is because your whole dopamine/iron system blah-blah-blah Merck Manual medical mini-lecture there just took me down a couple of notches there. But I'm pretty damn sure that I could be teed up and ready to go in about four seconds flat if you would just waggle that wickedly awesome and tight-as-all-fuck ass of yours in front of me just one more time. Preferably after we've closed my apartment door behind us. Because the only thing hotter than that ass of yours in tight jeans is the thought of that tight ass naked while I work that soft skin of yours between my hands. And the only thing hotter than that tight ass naked in my hands is me, in you, watching myself pumping in and out of you as I look down on that sweet ass of yours. Yeah. _Booth's mouth broke into a crooked grin as he looked down, confirming his suspicion that he was no longer just a quarter-hard. _Fuck. And we're about three blocks from my house. If I don't cool my shit right now, I'll never hear the fucking end of it. _

Booth narrowed his eyes as somehow, from somewhere in the dark recesses of his mind, he remembered a chunk of Ovid: _post ea discedens sucis Hecateidos herbae sparsit: et extemplo tristi medicamine tactae defluxere comae, cum quis et naris et aures, fitque caput minimum; toto quoque corpore parva est: in latere exiles digiti pro cruribus haerent, cetera venter habet, de quo tamen illa remittit stamen et antiquas exercet aranea telas. _He looked at the back of Brennan's head and grinned. _"That's right, people. I'm a constant surprise." _The squints were always underestimating him. Brennan was always underestimating him, a bit less than the others, but still, more than she should. Someday, he would show her how smart he was, in his non-squinty way. Shifting his hips in the seat, he smirked at the one bit of Ovid that had stuck with him over the years: _"That said, before she left, the goddess sprinkled the juices of the herbs of Hecate over Arachne; at that venom's touch, her hair and then her eyes and ears fell off and all her body sank. And at her sides, her slender fingers clung to her as legs. The rest is belly; but from this, Arachne spins out a thread; again, she practices her weaver's art, as once she fashioned webs." _ For a brief second, he quirked an eyebrow at why that, of all of Ovid, had come to him now. But then Brennan's voice called out to him from the front seat.

"Your feet, then?" Brennan glanced into the rear-view mirror once more.

"Heh," he chuckled with a waggle of his eyebrows. "No, Bones—guess again."

"You know, Booth," she said, bringing her eyes back to the road as she made the turn onto the street that Booth lived on, six blocks farther down. "I'm already tiring of this tedious and thoroughly insipid guessing game of yours." She adjusted the volume of her radio upwards and added, "So, no, I'm not really interested in finding out what part of your lower anatomy is restless. It sounds like a personal problem that you should see to, preferably the next time you have five or ten minutes alone."

Frowning a bit in disappointment at Brennan's unwillingness to play along, he grumbled loudly, "Just five or ten minutes?"

She arched an eyebrow of her own at him. "Unlike women, it's a proven physiological fact that once the male anatomy is properly stimulated, it doesn't take that long for ejaculation to occur if the proper physical manipulation is applied."

Knowing that her seemingly innocuous statement was too good to pass up, Booth's grin widened as he said, "So, uhhh, how do you know that wasn't the reason I was kicking the back of your chair? Maybe my leg was just hitting it as...ahhh, well, ya know, Bones. Maybe it was doing that as a result of me being distracted because I was...uhh, busy...doing something else back here since I'm all by my lonesome." He gave her a rather suggestive leer as he let his words trail off.

Refusing to rise to his bait, Brennan shook her head as she replied quite sensibly, "Since I know that even in your drugged up state that you wouldn't start to masturbate in the back seat of my car—since I know you're neither _that _crass or inconsiderate—I highly doubt it. Besides, there was no accompanying verbal sounds that would suggest you'd approached and/or achieved sexual release, so we're back to RLS, Booth—which, by the way, would be a good thing to consult your physician about the next time you go to see your general practitioner."

"Aww, come on, Bones," Booth said, with a bit of a whine in his voice. "But what if I wanted _you_ to be my doctor?"

"If I was your doctor," she sneered. "I wouldn't have let you talk me into giving you a hard cast, and then I most certainly wouldn't have to go through the extra work to deal with all of the aftercare that you'll necessitate on account of having that thoroughly unnecessary plaster of Paris cast on your hand."

"Damn," Booth muttered. "You know what? You're no fun, Bones," Booth complained, the whine in his voice now full-fledged. "You're absolutely no fun whatsoever."

"Well, then consider us even because you ceased being fun hours ago, Booth," she retorted. "And, for the record, this is not how I intended my evening to go—playing nursemaid to you and Wendell."

He cocked an eyebrow at that remark. "I can be a lot of fun, Bones," he said. "Just give me a chance."

"I think I'll have to pass on that offer there, Booth," she snorted. "Instead of giving you a 'chance' as you say, I'd rather just give you another hydrocodone pill, get you to bed, and see if I can salvage a sliver of my evening."

Booth stared at her for a few seconds and then shrugged his shoulders. "Your loss," he snickered. _So you're just gonna dump me off at my place, jam a pill down my throat and what? What the fuck does "salvage my evening" mean anyways? Where are you gonna go, huh? You got some kind of hot date there, Bones, that you don't want to tell me about? What kind of numbnut you got lined up tonight? Another one of those online fuckwads this time? Or some brainboy from the Jeffersonian that can talk all night about accelerometers and electron microscopes but wouldn't know what to do with a woman if she came with an instruction book? Which you sure the hell don't_. _I would rock your world, Bones. Rock your fuckin' world, if you'd just give me half a chance. I'm so sick of watching the parade of lame-ass jagoffs you use to satisfy your 'biological urges'. You deserve the whole fuckin' package there, Bones. And I know just the guy to deliver it. I'm it, baby. You just don't know it yet._

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><p><strong>AN:**

_So, that's how it begins. How will it end? Well, if you've ever read anything that the_ **dharmasera **_collab has created, you can probably guess where we're going with this, but what you really want to know is, how will we get there? _

_Folks, let me be absolutely clear: _**Lesera128 **_and _**dharmamonkey** _live for reader reviews._

_We love to hear what people think of our work. We get very nervous when all we hear are crickets. But when people respond to our work, we are emboldened to keep writing. _

_Simply put, here's the math: More reviews = happier writers = quicker updates._

_You know what to do, people. Click that little review button down there._

_Yep, right down there._

_That's the one._


	14. 14—Pulling the Goalie, Pt II

**A Very Bad Idea**

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><p><strong>By:<strong> dharmamonkey & Lesera128

**Rated: **M

**Disclaimer: **Ummm, nope, we still don't own anything. We have, however, apparently become squatters in the sandbox that we crashed... so, umm... yeah. There we go.

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><p><strong>AN: "We're back, baby!" **_Yes, at long last, here's another dose* of _**dharmasera **_goodness for your reading pleasure. Okay, so this is not the scenario we thought would be #4, but our muse (_**Lesera128**_'s in particular) really bit down on this one hard. (And, no, that would not be a thinly-veiled metaphor, because we don't really do that kind of thing.)_

_* Yes, this is also another piece involving characters under the influence of mind-altering substances. However, we promise that all controlled substances in this piece were administered only to the characters to whom they were prescribed and were used in strict accordance with the prescriber's instructions. No laws were broken in the creation of this stoned!fic._

**UNF Alert: **_Okay, so you read Part I. Booth, on Vicodin, is all amped up after his mega-aggressive hockey game. Brennan is taking care of him after he's had his broken hand set and put in a hard cast. You know how this is gonna end, and you can't wait. If the prospect of epic unfness bothers you, consider yourself duly warned.**  
><strong>_

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><p><strong>IV. Pulling the Goalie, Part II<strong>

**Pertinent Details on Scenario #4****: **Set at the beginning of episode 4x13: "Fire in the Ice."

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><p>Approximately ten minutes later, Brennan was prodding Booth in the back as she mildly shoved him through the now unlocked and open door of his apartment.<p>

"Bones," Booth muttered. "Cut it out, will ya? I'm going as quickly as I can."

"At a gastropoda's pace?" Brennan asked.

Looking back over his shoulder, he quirked an eyebrow at her in askance.

Brennan rolled her eyes in response as she said, "Snail, Booth. A gastropoda is also known as a common snail."

"Oh," Booth said. "Well, why didn't you just say that then?"

"I believe I did," Brennan said as she turned around, shut and locked the door behind them, and dropped Booth's hockey stick, gym bag, and her purse in a heap near the entrance. Sighing, she then turned with her hands on her hips to face Booth. "Now—"

"Oh, no—" Booth cut her off as he wagged the pointer finger on his left (read: good) hand at Brennan. "No, no, no, Bones. No way."

"What?" she responded, somewhat annoyed at the interruption as her brow furrowed at him in response.

"I know that look," Booth said, "and I know that tone. And both of them always end up with you bossing me around, and that's not gonna fly right now, so just cut it out, okay?"

"You believe you can tell what I'm about to say simply by interpreting my facial expressions and the tone of voice I had when I verbalized a single monosyllabic word?" Brennan asked.

"Yuppers," Booth said, as he blinked at her, his stare more than slightly unfocused.

"Right," Brennan said, shaking her head in moderate annoyance. "Why did I think this was going to go easy? I should've known the moment that you started talking about the merits of my ass to my intern that you were going to make things hard."

Giving her a cocky grin, Booth wobbled a bit as he said, "Ya know, Bones, that's another thing."

"What?" she asked, looking up at him.

"In the car," Booth nodded at her. "You really don't expect me to believe that you weren't listening to every single word I said when I was talking to Wendell, do you?"

"No," she replied with a firm shake of her head. "And—as I've spent the last ten minutes trying to explain to you, as you've made repeated attempts to draw me into a conversation of explicit sexual content—as a matter of fact, I have no qualms whatsoever admitting that I was listening intently to the rather crude and inappropriate comments you were making to Mr. Bray, Booth."

"Ha!" Booth snickered. "I knew it."

"I wasn't pretending otherwise, Booth," Brennan said as she walked towards him and began to push him towards the bedroom.

"Ummmm, Bones?" Booth asked, suddenly uncertain what his partner was up to. _Huh, _he said to himself. _Maybe it worked. Maybe she's ready to see what kind of Boothy goodness I can serve up. Then again, I think I'd like to have my chance to run through the buffet, I mean, at least once. I know a few places I'd like to graze. I bet she tastes fucking amazing. Yeah. _ "What in the hell do you think you're doing? I mean...ummm...if you want to have your way with me or something, that's fine, but usually I do like to be romanced a bit before we get down to business and hit the main event, ya know?"

"God, what is with you?" Brennan snapped. "It's like you and Wendell started talking about my ass, and some metaphorical switch was flipped in your brain, and it's been nothing but sex, sex, sex since that point in time. Now, can you please focus for five minutes on anything that's not related to a sexual point of concern?"

Swallowing once, Booth did his best to ignore the semi-hard on that he'd been sporting since she started talking about her ass and sex and thinking of all the ways her ass would look great between his hands. "Ummm...I don't know if I can do that, Bones."

"Well, try," she said with a severe look on her face.

"Uhhhh..."

"I mean it, Booth," Brennan said, her patience fraying to dangerously thin levels. "To use one of your phrases, cut it out!"

"Fine!" he said with a sigh of his own exasperation. "I'll try...but, you aren't helping things, ya know, by basically dragging me to my bedroom. And, that's been one of my ongoing fantasies for about four years now, Bones, just FYI—"

"Booth!"

"Sorry," he muttered as he looked down at the floor in slight contrition.

"Now, the reason I'm dragging you to your room has nothing to do with sex," she explained. "You didn't shower at the ice rink," Brennan said, as if the explanation were unnecessary since she was merely repeating to Booth something he already knew.

"Yeah," Booth said. "I know that. I didn't have time, remember, 'cause _someone_ was bellowing from outside the _men's _locker room that Wendell and I needed to go to the ER."

"And, you did," Brennan said as she continued to guide him in the direction of his bedroom. "A fractured set of metacarpals is no small thing, Booth," she continued with a slight frown. "Neither was Wendell's concussion. He's lucky the CAT scan showed no damage to his cranium."

"Yeah, well, Carlson's lucky, too, because if he'd cracked Wendell's skull, I would've had to go and crack his," Booth grumbled, frowning a bit at the thought, but for once his mind seemed to be distracted away from its sexual fixation that he'd developed. "Asshole," he muttered.

"Then I suppose it was a good thing that Wendell only suffered the concussion that he did. That way you haven't been required to track down where Carlson retired to after he left the ice rink this evening and then have me detained in having to come and bail you out from whatever arresting agency required me to post bail for you," Brennan observed with her lips pressed into a thin line.

After she had backed him up against the bed's foot board, Brennan gave him a critical look of assessment. _I'm never getting out of here_, she thought. _Damn...what do I do now? I just spent five minutes verbally berating him for obsessing about sex, and now I have to look at him like this...and I know he's going to go back to the fixation on my ass now. I mean, does he think that a little thing like his semi-erection would go unnoticed by a person who's as trained as I am in noticing such details about the human body? Come on, Booth. God...this is not how I pictured this evening going. We were supposed to be half-way to drunk by now at the Founding Fathers, not with me being completely sober and playing nursemaid to a cranky FBI partner who's dealing with the build-up of hormones that his body secreted during the game by fixating on the closest female that's present. God, what a waste of a good evening. And, now, to top it all off, I won't have a good enough buzz going on by the time I get home where I might be able to relax enough to take a bath, and maybe ease up a bit to get myself off without feeling guilty about thinking about him like that. Because, I mean...it's not like he's serious. He doesn't really think about me like that. It's just his pain meds that are doing the talking. I mean, I'm certain if it weren't my ass that he was fixating on, it would be Cam's legs, or_—_fuck...and this is all his fault. Damn it, Booth! _Swallowing once, she pushed the thoughts away. _Fine...you can do this, Brennan. Get him clean, give him his meds, and put him to bed. Then, you can go home. Now, remember...detached, clinical, focused. _

As she scanned him up and down with a trained eye, she was in the process of trying to determine the most logical way of how best to proceed with achieving her next goal when Booth shot her a strange look.

"What in the hell are you doing, Bones?"

"You're dirty," she observed, tilting her head as she raised her eyes to meet his. _Remember, stay detached, clinical, and focused, Brennan. That's it. _ "Because your sweat glands produced an excessive amount of perspiration in the course of your competitive activities during the game, you are in need of a shower, Booth."

"Whoa, there, Bones," Booth said with a shake of his head. _Oh, God, _he groaned silently. _If this is just a tease, then I don't want to hear another fucking word, because right now, the only shower I want to take is the two-person kind where you get dirty before you get clean. _ "I, uhh, I'm just fine, okay?"

"No, no, you're not," Brennan said. "To put it colloquially, Booth, you smell," she said. Her gray eyes stared hard into his. "You need to shower and change your apparel in anticipation of slumbering before I can give you another pain pill," Brennan told him in a very measured voice.

"Fine," Booth said as he conceded her point. "Fine, okay. Then, why don't you scram and let me do what I need to do here—"

He reached up and frowned when he tried to raise his injured hand to grab his one side of his jacket and realized that his hand wasn't going to do what his brain commanded it to do thanks to the presence of the hard cast that he had earlier lauded to Brennan. However, knowing that she was watching him, he bit his lip and struggled to raise his other hand to begin working on getting the zipper loose. He scowled as he tried to hold one side of his jacket in place with the hard-casted hand, tugging at the zipper pull with his other, free hand, but—whether it was the narcotic fogging his mind or his tired, one-handed clumsiness—he couldn't seem to get the fine-toothed zipper to cooperate. _Dammit, _he grumbled silently. _I'm all fuckin' thumbs tonight. And her staring at me like she is, watching me like some little amoeba under one of her squinty little microscopes, isn't helping things a goddamn bit. _He cleared his throat and slid his casted hand down to the bottom hem of his jacket, trying to hold the bottom of the zipper with his fingers, but they were still too numb from the anesthetic to get a grip on anything. _Fuck me, _he frowned.

As he worked, Brennan watched with some mild fascination as she saw his tongue dart out and loll at the corner of his mouth as he tried to work the zipper free. For a moment, she saw only the bright pinkness of the edge of his tongue as the rest of the word faded out of her mind's eye but for that one image. Focusing on one part of the body was nothing new to Brennan as she'd always been wonderful about compartmentalizing the human body, piece by anatomical piece. However, when she stared at the tip of his bright pink tongue, she didn't see it as she normally did—as a muscular hydrostat whose purpose was to aid in mastication. No, she didn't see it as she normally did when she considered all other tongues as masses of soft tissue covered in papillae and taste buds whose practical function was all that really need be considered from a scientific perspective. No, this time, as Booth continued to work at struggling to release the leather jacket's zipper, and his tongue darted out further down the corner of his mouth, she could only think of one thing.

_I wonder what that feels like_, she found the thought echoing in her head. For some reason, some crazy, strange, inexplicable reason, she wondered what his tongue would feel like if it were caressing some part of _her _body. _I mean, I know what he tastes like_, she found herself thinking. _It's not like we haven't kissed before, because we have, and it wasn't a big deal. That is to say, it's not that he wasn't a good kisser, because he was, and there __was__ tongue contact, but it was brief, too brief, really, to be able to say I can definitively claim to know of what Booth's capable when he uses his tongue. That's not to say that I want to know what he can do with his tongue, because he's my partner, and I don't think of him like that, and we're not like that, so really, there's no point to this line of mental inquiry since I'm supposed to be maintaining a detached, clinical, and focused non-sexual mindset. Come on, Brennan!_

She stopped, and had just resolved to push such prurient thoughts out of her mind, when his tongue slipped out of his mouth again. _Now, he's not doing that on purpose, right? Wait—he's not...he wouldn't actually be teasing me here? He wouldn't do_—_I mean, he can't even know that I'm looking at him like that...he's half out of it as is, anyway. So, it's not like he could be sticking out that luscious looking tongue of his and making it so that I can almost imagine what it would feel like if I were an ice cream cone filled up with a scoop of his favorite flavor just to sexually arouse me, right? No. He's just not that...no...right? _As she stared at his tongue again as he pulled at the jacket, she felt a bit flush. _Damn it, why is he is aesthetically pleasing in such a hopelessly clueless way when he wants to be? _Brennan wondered.

Reaching out, she lightly placed a hand on his good arm. "Booth?" she said.

"What?" he mumbled as he continued to pull at the jacket. "I'm kinda busy here, Bones, so why don't you scram so I can do what it is that you were bitching at me to do, huh?"

"Stop," she said, squeezing his arm to illustrate her point. "It's obviously your limited mobility has made it difficult for you to undress. So, if you would cease in your efforts, I will assist you—"

As soon as she'd said the words, Booth's head snapped up. His eyes darted from her hand back to where she was staring at him so intently, and then he shook his head. _She wants to undress me? Like, seriously?_ He felt his balls hitch at the thought of her hands, on him, undressing him, taking each piece of clothing off, piece by tortuous piece. _There's no fucking way I'm gonna survive her undressing me. Those slender little fingers, pulling my shirt off, unbuckling my belt buckle, and unzipping my fly? I'm already getting hard thinking about it. I'm not sure I won't blow my wad right then and there, especially with this hydrocozone crap messing up my head. I mean, oh fuck._ "Whoa, wait a minute. Did you just say what I think you said?"

"What?" she blinked at him, trying to maintain a facade of innocence and calm, rational, clinical, and focused detachment..

"Uhhh, I know you didn't just offer to undress me, 'cause I already told you, Bones, I can do it myself," he said with a shake of his head.

"Obviously not," Brennan said, as she withdrew her hand from his arm, and crossed her arms as she looked at him with a nod of her head. "Particularly since you've been struggling to merely unzip your leather jacket for the better part of five minutes without any significant success at achieving that goal, so if that's any indication of what you're capable of, I'd say that chances you'll be able to undress, shower, and change in a timely manner without any assistance—so that I can give you another pain pill as the doctor instructed—is quite unlikely. So, if you'd stop being the stubborn male hominid that we all know you imitate so very well, and would accept my help, we could go about this entire process with much more ease and precision than if you fight me. You need help, and I'm here, ready and willing to assist you. So, as I said, if you'd stop fighting me, I think that would be a much better solution than if I have to compel your cooperation. Agreed?"

_Why does this seem like one of those Godfather-esque offers I can't really refuse? _he asked himself. He glanced down at his useless hand and back up at her, narrowing his eyes as he scanned her face for some sign—of what, he wasn't even sure—and, finding nothing in that moment that screamed '_Danger, Will Robinson_,'he decided to let her go ahead and help him.

"Okay," he grumbled. "I guess I could use a hand here—you know, since, um, I'm kinda short in that department. I'm not doing it because you're treating me like a baby, all right? But, hey—don't think just 'cause I'm letting you give me a hand here, that that means I'm easy or something—" _Unless you really want me to be. _ "I'm just, you know, willing to accept a little help from my friends."

"Of course not," she said as she took a step forward, gently swatted his hands away from the jacket's zipper, and used one hand to pull the bottom of the jacket taut while her other moved to the zipper.

Holding one side firm in her hand, she jiggled the zipper a bit before she gave it a tug and eased its way all the way down his chest. When she skillfully pulled the jacket free, a pungent wave of his body odor suddenly assaulted her nostrils as she walked around behind him and helped ease one jacket sleeve off his shoulder followed by the other.

She was precise in each movement she made, almost clinical in her measured movements, but for the scrunching of her nose as she sniffed his scent. _Sweat,_ she thought to herself. _Male sweat...Booth's sweat...and deodorant. And...soap, I think? Ivory soap, maybe? _The smell tickled her nose, causing her to inhale more deeply and let a puff of her breath fall away from her just at the exact moment she pulled the jacket off of him and exposed the tender skin of the back of his neck.

Booth watched her and a smile slowly crept over his lips as he realized what she was doing. For a moment, he thought about saying something, but the way she was looking at him, and the way it felt to have her taking his jacket off, he suddenly found himself without words. He felt the tips of his ears get warm as he felt her stare. _I'm dreaming, _he told himself, closing his healthy hand in a tight fist, his fingernails digging into his palm. _Nope, not dreaming. Fuck. _He felt his balls tighten again and he bit the inside of his lip, trying desperately to maintain control of his baser instincts as he listened to her breathing. He stood there, dumbly, his mouth hanging open a little as she tugged his jacket off his arms.

When she eased the jacket off his casted hand, she held it for just a second longer than she needed to as she felt some of his body warmth leap from the jacket into the tips of her fingers. She savored the sensation before the less base portion of her brain chimed in with a timely observation, _What the fuck are you doing, Brennan? This is not, in any way, shape, or form detached, clinical, and focused...unless your focus is to start fucking your partner. So, get a grip here! _The thought jolted her from her reverie, and she quickly tossed the jacket onto the bed as if it had suddenly burned her.

Coming back around so that she was standing in front of him once more, she nodded at him and said, "I assume you don't need me to untie your shoes for you?"

Booth thought about that for a moment, smirking at the thought of her bending down and kneeling in front of him to untie his shoes_. Yeah, that smokin' ass looks best when she's bending over something, straining the hell out of that dark, tight denim. Yeah, kneeling down at my feet...and between my legs—nice. Though I kinda like the idea of me laying back, her head between my knees, that hair of hers all let down outta that ponytail, tickling the insides of my thighs the way I know it will. Yeah. _ Then, somewhere in the more lucid recesses of his brain, he decided not to push his luck. "No, I think I can handle that, thanks," he said, wobbling a little as he knelt down to jerk his laces loose before toeing out of his sneakers.

Watching him in mild amusement, Brennan bit back a smile as she watched him kick off his shoes and then push off his white athletic socks. She then stared at him for a minute, noting that he was still in his sweaty dark grey t-shirt and well-worn jeans. Her eyes narrowed for a minute as a thought suddenly occurred to her. _Damn it! How in the hell am I supposed to be clinical, detached, and focused if he takes off those jeans off his_—_which he fills out like they were custom-made for his hips. and legs, and musculature_—_and what if he's not wearing any boxers? I mean, I know he's been sporting the beginning of an erection off and on for some time here...what if he is again...and he's naked, and he's looking at me like he's been looking at me all night and starts off with the propositioning again? Even I have my limits...and I'm just about at the end of them. A bit more, and I'm not going to care if the only reason he's doing this is because he wants to get laid, and I happen to be the nearest warm female body around. _

"What?" he croaked as he stood up to his full height again.

Brennan cleared her throat before she nodded at him. "I have a question I need to ask you with the understanding I do it more to ameliorate the modesty I know you often feel in such situations more than out of any necessity or curiosity I possess in needing to know the answer, but—" She tilted her head and said, "I assume that if I help you remove your jeans that I'll find that you're wearing some form of underwear beneath them?"

"Heh," he laughed. _ Don't you wish I wasn't, huh, Bones? Wanna get another peek at the goods? You know you want to, and I know you want to. And I sure as fuck want you to, 'cause I'm pretty sure if we get started on a 'I've shown you mine, now you've gotta show me yours,' then the rest of this evening will be epic._ "No going commando tonight, Bones. I had time to do a little laundry the other night."

Brennan almost seemed to relax at his words, some of the nervous anxiety she'd unaware she'd begun to exhibit dissipating as soon as he spoke. "Good. Then, I won't need to get you a towel just yet then," she nodded. "You can stay in your boxers while I bathe you."

Booth furrowed his brow. "What?" he squeaked. "Wait—what? You're not giving me a bath." He shook his head, quite sure he liked the idea of her hands all over him, but yet fairly certain he didn't like the prospect of her giving him a bath. _Seems a bit—fetishistic, ya know. Almost a little dominant/submissive and, no thanks, I'm not really into that kind of kink, especially where I'm the one being asked to submit, thank you very much. Now, if she wanted to, ya know...submit_—_well, that might be something different, but... _"What? Am I like, seven? Even Parker takes baths by himself. I'll have you know that I'm a big boy, Bones, and since I'm a grown man—"

"I know you're a grown man," Brennan interrupted him.

The tone in her voice drew his curiosity...and attention. _Hmmm...is something going on there or am I just imagining things? _"Fine," Booth told her. "Then, I think we both can agree that I sure as hell don't need your help taking a bath, alright?"

"Given how wobbly you seem on your feet, it's likely that the pain medication has impaired your balance," Brennan said. "As such, it would be too much of a risk to allow you to stand up in the shower because while the chance of you falling is slim, the probability you would get you cast wet is high. Allowing you to submerge yourself in a bath is just as likely to result in the same outcome. So, the logical thing would be for me to get a bowl of warm water and let you situate yourself on the bed while I rub you down—"

_She wants to what? _Booth mentally asked himself. _Man, what a shitty turn of luck. I finally get her into my bedroom with me almost naked on the bed and all she wants to do is play Florence-fucking-Nightingale. I mean, if she wants to rub something down, I can give her something to rub right now, but only if this is about something other than her trying to take care of me. I mean, if she's just here because she feels she has to be, fuck that. I don't want her here. Now, if she wants to play...well, that's something altogether different. But, it sure as hell doesn't seem like that's what she wants, especially since the ass shaking thing earlier seemed like a fluke. Awww, man...fuck_—

"—that will allow me to get you somewhat clean, removing your excessive perspiration and such while not endangering the hard cast, while I might remind you, you only have because you insisted on getting it against the express advice of the doctor who wanted to put a soft cast on you. Remember?"

"So, um..." He looked up at her with an uncertain expression on his face. His thoughts seemed to be racing a little after hearing her utter the phrase _rub you down,_ and he was struggling to regain his focus. _Now, wait. She's not really into that whole master/servant, dominant/submissive thing I hope, because if she is, I've got a really bad feeling that she's gonna be the one holding the whip, and I really don't want to...no...this is a very bad idea. _He took a deep breath and winced a little. "Ummm, yeah, so, you're basically saying I don't have a choice here?"

"No," she said with a tilt of her head. "You don't. Not really, anyway, since this is the most logical and most rational course of action—unless you have another suggestion as to how we can achieve the same goal of you getting clean without me rubbing you down?"

_God, why does she have to keep saying it like that? I'm not a horse that just finished a race. _He felt the bile rise in his throat a little at the very thought of rubbing down a horse. That whacked-out pony-play case still gave him the creeps every time he saw a horse or a person in English riding gear. _ Cut me some friggin' slack here, Bones. _He scratched his head with his good hand. "Why can't I just take a regular bath, and maybe keep my hand—you know—outside of the tub or something? I, uh...you know—"

"You're far too jittery right now," Brennan said as she gave him a hard stare. "You almost fell over when you were trying to take off your shoes, so the answer is no because I'm not taking you back to the ER tonight to get another cast put on if you get that one wet out of stupidity. Now, cooperate please."

"Fine," he grumbled, his face drawing into a sulk. _This isn't how this is supposed to go, Bones, _he thought. _Me bathing with your help should involve you and me in the shower, and me drilling you against the wall, or maybe your legs around my waist as I lean on the wall for, you know, support, but not me getting bathed by you. That's not the kind of thing I'm into here, alright? But if all you want to do here is be my nurse instead of meeting me halfway and making something really epic together tonight, then let's just get it done and call the game, because I can't take much more of this. _ "This is stupid, but fine. If it gets you out of my apartment sooner, then fine."

Brennan's hard stare turned even harder at his words as she felt a bit of a sting. _I can't believe this. You want me to leave? Really? You've spent the last half hour spewing more sexual innuendo than you have in the past four years combined...and now you want me to leave? Seriously? What...am I not good enough just because I'm_—_well, fuck. I don't know what you're problem with me is because God knows that you'd be lucky to have a chance to have sex with me. That was true four years ago, and it's even more true today. I'm smarter, prettier, and more sexually proficient than just about any other woman that you could call_—_Cam and your rolodex of blonde standbys included_—_so fine. You want me gone? Fine. Then, that's it. I'm gone just as soon as I've ensured that you complied with the discharge paperwork since I was the one who agreed to supervise your convalescence for the next twenty-four hours. God, I'm so damn stupid. I should've just left well enough alone, but no_—_I have to actually care about you. God damn it!_

She contemplated leaving him right then and there, and only because she knew the ER had given very specific discharge orders which she'd agreed to follow through to the letter did she resist following through on that impulse. Instead, she decided that perhaps she was being a bit _too _considerate in her actions. Hardening her jaw, her eyes narrowed as she took a step towards him.

"Put your arms up," she ordered him.

He thought about arguing, but, after considering the stony expression on her face and the almost-angry glint in her eyes, he shook his head a little and raised his arms over his head. He felt another raw flash of want tingle through his legs to the tips of his toes and remembered how hot she could be when she got bossy. _Like that one time, during the Cleo Eller case, and I found you in the shooting range with that little revolver of yours, and you gave me all that lip_, _well-deserved to be honest, about me being a cop, and that bossy way you looked and spoke to me. I mean, Jesus_—_I wanted to fuck you right then and fuckin' there, right against that goddamn wall, that was so damn hot. _The thought made him shiver a little as he rolled his shoulder to shake away the sensation. "This is a stick-up," he quipped. "Nobody moves, and nobody gets hurt."

At his feeble joke, Brennan merely rolled her eyes at him as she shook her head and said nothing in response. With an almost prefect actualization of the clinical detachment for which she had been struggling all evening since they'd dropped Wendell off at his mother's, Brennan finally achieved it by channeling her anger into her treatment of Booth as she pulled his T-shirt up over his head. She tossed it on top of the jacket and then moved to his belt buckle. Moving her fingers as quickly as possible, she merely unhooked the buckle, but didn't move to pull the belt free of its loops. Her deft fingers plucked at the buttons of his jeans, unzipped them, and she had the denim off of his hips and bunched around his ankles in a relatively short period of time.

Booth squirmed a little as he felt his jeans fall down his legs. _Oh, fuck, _he thought as he sucked in a breath between his teeth. _I'm never gonna survive this if we don't fuck before the night is over. I think I'll seriously die of a fatal case of blue balls. Shit_. He swallowed and grunted quietly, trying to shake off the feeling that—despite his annoyance at the entire process—there was something undeniably arousing about having a beautiful and sexy woman—one that he'd often fantasized about over the years—undress him, article by article, in the middle of his bedroom.

Looking away from him, she said in a very curt tone, "I assume you can kick them away. After you do, get on the bed and sit down. I'll be back in a moment with the water and some towels."

Turning away from him, she stalked off into the outer part of the apartment. Booth could hear her rummaging on the far side of the apartment in the kitchen before he heard similar sounds coming from the bathroom. He stepped out of his jeans and, a few moments later, she reappeared in his bedroom doorway, balancing a soapy bowl of steaming water in one hand and a stack of face cloths, hand towels, and a dark blue bath towel in her other hand.

Moving towards him, she set the bowl on the nightstand, took the larger towel, and tossed it to him. "Here," she said, still refusing to make eye contact with him as she took the other wash cloth and dipped it into the bowl of water.

"What?" he said, confused.

"You can use that to dry off with," she said. "I'm only handling the water since that's the only part you can't be trusted with—you can dry yourself."

He blinked and shrugged, clutching the towel against his belly. "Okay." He watched her, suddenly reminded of that line of Han Solo's in Star Wars. _I've got a bad feeling about this, _he told himself. _This is a very bad idea. _A voice in the back of his head whispered back: _This is the best fucking idea ever, Booth_—_I swear to God, you do anything that messes this up, and I'll kick your own sorry ass because this is a fucking awesome mega-good thing that we've got potentially going on here. _

As she swirled the smaller face cloth in the warm water, she squeezed out some of the excess water before she quickly moved to the far side of the bed. Sitting next to him as she faced the side of his body that was uninjured, she didn't say anything as she extended his arm and began to move in smooth solid lines. As she fell into a pattern, dipping the cloth in the water, bringing it to his arm, and swiping the cloth against his body, she let her mind wander as she contemplated his earlier words that had left a rather bitter taste in her mouth. Without realizing it, her tempo increased the more she contemplated the words he'd said, and the more her anger increased, the more her rubbing motion came in a steady but fast pace as she moved down his arms and proceeded to give his back the same treatment.

Booth felt a vague tingle at the base of his spine as she rubbed the wash cloth across his back, and he found himself shifting his hips on the bed, suddenly uncomfortable as the noticeable tugging sensation in his belly told him he was getting hard at being touched this way. _Oh no, _he groaned silently. _This is fucking hot and all, but damn, I was kinda hoping I could hold on a little longer before things got to this—there's no I can hide this kind of thing from her. _He winced as he felt the cloth rub against his skin in concentric circles. _Oh, damn. _He looked down at his crotch and saw from the tenting of his boxer shorts that it wasn't just his hazy hydrocodone brain playing tricks on him—he was almost at full mast, and he figured he'd be about there by the time she finished with his back.

Booth leaned his head back and swallowed hard, squeezing his eyes shut as it felt like every nerve ending in his body was firing each and every time she brought the washcloth over the skin of his lower back. He knew if he opened his eyes he might see her hand out of the corner of his eye, holding the ceramic bowl, and the image of her fingers curled around the rim of the bowl, her fingertips just barely breaking the surface of the warm water. _God, I can't believe I got roped into that crazy thing, _he told himself as his mind suddenly flashed back to that night he went out with his crazy friend Poderosky after his Ranger Company finished the joint jungle warfare exercises with the Third Marines at Camp Gonsalves in Okinawa. Poderosky had inisisted that they had, just _had _to go check out this massage parlor that the jarheads kept raving about, and after a couple of beers at the NCO Club at the base_—_well, more than couple, to be honest_—_the two had set out to find the fabled rubdown joint. The young woman he'd gotten to perform his massage was very young, so young that just thinking about it made him cringe a little, but the way her hands had worked his feet, his back and shoulders—all of which were tight and sore from twenty-mile road marches with full battle gear in 95° heat and 99% humidity—was like magic. _Bones has magic fingers, but damn, that mamasita in Okinawa had fucking amazing little fingers, and the way she worked me over once I rolled over on my back, I mean_—_damn. _He felt Brennan press a little harder with the washcloth as she worked her way around to his side, just above his hip, and Booth felt a flash of raw desire surge down his spine as he squirmed a little against the comforter.

Finished with his back, Brennan was debating whether to go to the other side of the bed to finish his injured arm or start on his legs when she moved to dip the wash cloth in the water again. As she moved, her eyes darted over his body as she took inventory of her efforts...and saw that increasing his cleanliness was not the only thing that her efforts had wrought.

"Oh, fuck," he whispered. "That's even better than that girl in Okinawa—oh, damn..." Booth gasped as he realized that his lurid internal dialogue had suddenly ceased being internal, and he knew he was in very deep trouble. _Oh, fuck._

As soon as he'd spoken, Brennan processed the words and felt her body tense in fury. _God damn it, _she felt a flash of anger. _Seriously? What the fuck? _ "I am not doing this to service you, Booth!" she snapped at him. "What the fuck?" Sighing in clear annoyance, she took the wash cloth and let it fall into the water with a loud _plop_. "Okay, it was one thing when you were being an asshole, but this is something else entirely."

"What?" he gulped, reaching for the bath towel with his good hand, trying to cover up his rapidly-growing hard on.

"It's one thing to insult me," she said as she finally lifted her angry gaze to his. "You've been doing that all night so I suppose I should just be used to it by now. I know you don't like it when you're on the pain meds because it makes you feel funny. But, for fuck's sake, Booth—I'm your partner. I think I deserve a little more respect than this since all I've been trying to do is help you. So, if your body's having a normal biological response to physical stimulation, and you damn well know what was happening, the least you could do is have a little consideration, tell me, and I'll let you have enough privacy so that you can do whatever you need to do to take care of it so I can finish doing what I need to do and get the hell out of here, because unlike any other past experiences you've had, I'm not working to provide you with a 'happy ending.'" She stopped, shaking her head in clear aggravation, "God...you just so need to get over yourself."

"Normal biological response?" he blurted. "Wait...what? What the fuck are you talking about?" he snapped defensively, cupping the towel with his hand over his groin. _Jesus..._

"You know, I've been trying to preserve some modicum of your modesty since I know that's important to you, and that's why I've been ignoring the snide comments and dirty looks and semi-hard ons you've been getting all night, but for fuck's sake...you really expect me to ignore that?" she pointed at him.

"Do you _want_ to ignore it?" he snorted, not realizing what he had said until the words had crossed the brain/mouth barrier at hyperspeed without so much as even slowing down. "'Cause I gotta be honest here—I'm not sure I am gonna be able to ignore this much longer."

She felt her jaw tighten a bit as she rolled it from side-to-side. Taking a breath, she tried to keep her frustration in check as she said, "You know, if you can't exhibit some simple self-control here, fine. I get that. This evening's activities have been physically demanding for you. The hormones that your body secreted because of the competitive aspect of the hockey game, combined with the surge of testosterone that you produced because of the fight...well, they're a lot to deal with...but, I'll be damned if I'm going to have you treat me like some flunky that's here to service you simply because I possess two X-chromosomes and the requisite female anatomy to which your body is obviously responding. Now, to use your own parlance...cut it out!"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" he growled, his confusion shifting to anger. _How fucking clueless can she fucking be here? Does she actually think I'd be getting hard as fuck like this for just any woman? Does she not realize that every damn time she touches me—never mind her undressing me, rubbing a wet washcloth over me when I'm damn near naked here—is like a real-life reenactment of every damn fantasy I've ever had about her, which is a fucking lot of them seeing as how I've had four-odd years of them rattling around in my head? _"Wait, do you actually think that—?"

"I believe I was quite clear," she cut him off. Pausing, Brennan took a deep breath before she gave him a slightly snide look as she said, "While I know that you're right hand is your dominant hand, I assume that you can use your left hand to take care of things long enough so that you can pull yourself together and I can do my job and leave since it's clear you don't want me here. So, how long do you need? Five minutes? Ten minutes? Give me some estimate. I'm sure I can occupy myself in the living room while you see to your needs. I've got several voice mails I need to listen to, and I can check my email on my phone if you still require more time to attend to such...matters."

_Wait, what? _"No," he grunted, shaking his head urgently. _The last fucking thing I'd do right now is jerk myself off. Now, if you wanna jerk me off, I might be willing to consider that. But I'm not flying solo on this one. No way. _"No, no, no—I am not doing that, and we are not having this particular conversation, okay?" He struggled to sit up, still covering his groin with the towel as he did so even as he realized full well the uselessness of the gesture as he did so. "This is stupid," he grumbled. "I'm going to take a bath—by myself, like a big boy, okay there, Bones? All by myself, thank you very much." With that, and his brow knitted low in a tight scowl, he stood up and began walking towards the bathroom. He glanced over his shoulder to see if she would make a move to follow him—or even whether she was watching him.

"Hey," she said, as she stepped away from the bed as she watched him walk towards the bathroom. Although she didn't make a move to follow him all the way into the bathroom, she did take a step towards him so that she was certain that she could still hear her. _He's not getting the last word on this one_—_no fucking way. _Calling out to him, she added, "If you want to refer to masturbation as 'taking a bath,' it won't offend my sensibilities in the least." _Because, it's not like I'm going to follow you into that bathroom_—_once you're in there, you're on your own._

"No," he snorted without turning around. "I literally mean I want to take a bath, Bones. The kind of bath that everyone takes every morning, the kind my son takes—all by himself, I might point out—so, no, I don't mean jerking off. I want to take a bath, since you didn't let me take one at the Potomac rink."

"I prefer to bathe in the evening, and I normally take showers since they're more expedient from a time perspective so I really only take baths to relax," Brennan said. "So not everyone has the same definition as bathing as you do. As to the second issue," she said as she followed him into the bathroom. "What are you going to do about your little problem there...wish it away?"

"Hey," he snapped, stopping in the doorway that separated the bedroom from the bathroom and turning around to face her, his ears and cheeks flush with frustration. "First off, it's none of your damn business. Second off, don't keep calling it a 'little' problem, because...it's just not...alright? And third—oh, fuck, I don't know what number three is, but knock it off already. Enough."

He then disappeared into the bathroom. Feeling her ire rise at his seemingly casual dismissal of her, Brennan couldn't help herself as she immediately broke her earlier vow not to follow him into the bathroom and followed him inside.

Rolling her eyes as she watched Booth pull away the shower curtain and run water in the tub with his good hand, she said, "Why is it that men are always so sensitive about the size of their reproductive anatomy? I mean, I know it's a well-documented phenomenon, but why is _every _male always so sensitive? It's not long every man can be meet the average or above average standards. Some men have to fall short, because their wouldn't be any compensation for the men who are above average if some individuals didn't have smaller penises."

"You know what, Bones?" He looked up at her and then back down at the stream of water filling the tub. _What the fuck are you trying to say here, Bones? You think I don't match up? You think my equipment is inadequate to get the job done? Bullshit. Say what you want, but I saw your eyes looking at me, and your eyes don't lie. They give it all away, sweetheart. _ He shook his head and glared at her. "You calling it 'reproductive anatomy' is a really excellent way of killing the mood, which I suppose I should thank you for. That little moment of squintiness might just have solved my issue."

"Good," she snorted. "Because, despite your little slip earlier about your pre-existing geisha girl fantasies—which are completely anachronistic, by the way, since the Geisha historically were known as performative artists and not the sexual submissive goddesses that U.S. servicemen made them into after World War II ended—I have no desire to contribute to the creation of any sexual fantasies you might or might not have—"

"I think it's a bit late for that, Bones," he said, not even realizing what he had said until several seconds after the words had left his mouth. "I mean, not about the geisha thing, which was never really my cup of tea anyway, but, I mean—you've gotta realize by now that you take top billing in every one of my sexual fantasies, right?" _Wait, what did I just say? Damn, I'm a fucking idiot. _

She blinked at him for several seconds in obvious surprise, and watched him fumble to recover.

"That's not what I meant—" he began, suddenly feeling a bit woozy and confused. "Because, it's not like...you know...you're sexy or would be sexy enough to cause me to have a sexy response because you're just a woman, and I'd react this way, well, you know, if it were anyone, and I mean, you're my partner, and I don't think of you in _that _way—" _Oh, fuck. Stop digging already, _he told himself. "I mean, it's, uhhh—"

Clearly offended at his latest stutterings, she pursed her lips into as thin a line as he'd ever seen her, her eyes flashed in anger, and her hands fell to her side as she clenched them in fury. Turning around, she spun on her heels and disappeared into the family room.

"Hey," he called out to her. "That's not what I meant, you know. Um...uh, hey Bones? What are you—?"

A minute or two later, she returned, carrying her messenger bag and his prescription bottle. Slamming it onto the side of the sink, she said, "Take one of those with a glass of water when you're done." She then quickly made a move to walk towards the exit that led to the living room once more.

Booth cut off the water abruptly and followed her into the other room. "Hey," he said, trying to jog up to her but quickly realizing he had neither the energy nor the coordination to do it. "Look, I'm sorry—"

"For which part?" she spat, her anger clear in her voice as she spoke. "Because you've been racking up the offensives since we left the ER, Booth. So, which part are you sorry for...embarrassing me in front of my intern? Or, how about insinuating that I was some massage parlor girl just waiting to give you a blowjob because that's what makes the happy ending so very happy for you, doesn't it? Or, perhaps you're sorry for telling me you wanted me gone because you find it so fucking offensive that I'm trying to help you? Or, is the apology for the part where you said I was sexually unalluring in a general way, or the part where you insinuated that you found me in no way attractive personally?"

He had to think about that for a minute. "Hey, can I go with '(f), All of the above?' Look, Bones—my brain's kind of mush right now, so please don't hold me one hundred percent responsible for what I say, okay?"

"Fine," she said. "I won't. Now go take your bath, don't get your cast wet, get clean, take your goddamn pill, and go to bed, okay?"

"I'm sorry I said those things," he said, his voice genuinely contrite if not ever so slightly slurred. "I wasn't trying to imply that...oh shit, you know...that's not what I meant at all. I...I just...I don't know—I didn't mean...it's just—look, I'm kinda drugged up, annoyed at getting thrown out of the hockey game, annoyed at that asshole Carlson for manhandling my guys and whacking Wendell's melon there, and annoyed that he was an asshole who made me break my hand because he didn't have the common decency to remove his helmet during a fight, which is good sportsmanlike hockey conduct. So, please, I'm sorry. _Please_—please stay with me."

"Booth," she said, rolling her eyes. "Enough, alright? Please, get in the bath and let's—what is it you say?—get the show on the road. What's the problem now?"

He ran his hand through his hair. "Remember how told you, ummmm, a few years back, Parker broke his arm while snowboarding in Vermont? He had one of the plastic sleeve thingies, but it was sized for an eight-year old...I might have it in the linen closet somewhere, but—" He narrowed his eyes then looked up at the ceiling, realizing mid-sentence that there was no way that Parker's old cast-wrap was going to fit his larger hand even if he managed to find it.

"And, you're telling me this why again?" she blinked at him, the growing impatience she felt clear in her gaze.

"Just makin' conversation here, Bones," he said with an easy grin.

"Yeah," she said, as she shifted her bag on her shoulder. "Well, I think I've had enough of your conversational skills for one night considering what you've managed to come up with tonight. I mean, really—if your idea of meaningful conversation is indicative of anything from your discussion with Mr. Bray to your rather keen insights on my sexual attractiveness—or lack thereof, as is the case apparently, then I'm quite sure I've heard enough."

"I have other skills," he said, a crooked grin breaking across his face before he realized what he had said. "I mean, beyond the conversational kind."

"Uh huh," she nodded, shaking her head and unobtrusively edging her way to the front door, a clearly affronted manner still present in her demeanor. "Be that as it may, since I'm apparently sufficiently asexual in your consideration, I suppose I'm fortunate in the fact that I won't have to subject myself to those skills."

"Wait, Bones," he pleaded as he watched her approach the door. He swallowed, his mouth falling open as he realized how deeply he had actually wounded her with his ill-considered words. _You're a fucking idiot, _he told himself. _She's the best thing to ever come into your sorry-ass fucking life and you're just gonna let her walk out that door because you don't have the balls to say and do what you need to—and what you should have fucking said and done years ago? Grow a set, you douche, _he told himself. _Come on! _ "Come on...please. Stay, alright?"

"No," she told him. _I think I've taken about as many insults from you as I can stomach in one twenty-four hour period, Booth. Please, just let me go home._ "We're done here. You said it yourself. You want to go take your bath? Fine, go take your bath, then take your pain pill, and go to sleep."

"Wait," he said. "What's it gonna take?" He cocked his head and looked at her. _She's the most beautiful, amazing woman you've ever met, Booth, and you've got about three-tenths of a damn second to set things right before she fucking walks out that door and you can kiss your chance with her goodbye, 'cause you'll never have another one, not in this lifetime. It's time to tell her, you wuss_. "Do you want me to tell you you're hot? Is that what you want me to say?"

She paused, her body rigid as she considered his words. Lifting her face to meet his, working carefully to make certain her facial response was completely neutral, she narrowed her eyes as she stared at him in suspicion. "Why on earth would you possible think that_ I _want to hear _you _make any such admission?"

He pouted his lips and rolled his eyes. "Because," he said. "You've twice or three times said something about me thinking you're not sexually alluring in you know, like, the last two minutes."

"I'm merely pointing out what you said earlier," she said, crossing her arms and refusing to look away. "Those were your words, not mine. You said you didn't think I was sexy."

"I've said you're sexy about a dozen times tonight," Booth retorted, his brow creased in puzzlement as he tried to remember exactly what he _had _said since leaving the rink. "I mean, what is this?" he snapped. "Stump the stoned guy? Cut me a break here, Bones. I broke my hand, I'm on hydrocozone or whatever the fuck it is, I got in a fight and took a shot to the head tonight. I'm not totally up to speed with my usual brainiac powers of mental awesomeness here. So, please, cut me just a little slack, huh?"

"Granted," she said, turning to go with a sigh. _I am cutting you some metaphorical slack, Booth_—_I'm leaving before either one of us says or does anything that will make things even more awkward between us tomorrow than they're already going to be, so please let me go. _ "I'm well aware of all those events since I was present for each. And, now, you're clearly due for another dosage. So, take one, and not to sound too trite, but you can call me in the morning if you need to."

He stared at her for a minute, wondering if she was going to make any further move towards the front door. "If you're wondering if I think you're hot, by the way, or if you turn me on, or whatever, rest assured, you do. You fuckin' do, okay? And, to be perfectly honest, you basically always have. Okay?" He sighed. "I want you, Bones. I've always wanted you. _You. _Not just because you're a pair of chromosomes or whatever, but because you're _you. _I'm sorry I said_—_those things I said before. I don't have a good excuse, really. But I want you, Bones. I always have. And I always will."

He watched her eyes for a moment, then sensing a window of opportunity had opened and might rapidly close, he hesitated for a brief second, then closed the distance between them in three short strides.

"Stay," he said, reaching for her and brushing the open palm of his good hand against the back of her shoulder.

"What do you want from me?" she said as he used his body to begin to nudge her back towards the bathroom. _Because...you don't mean that. I know you don't. You're just saying that for some reason_—_either because you don't want me to go and leave you here by yourself or because you want me to feel better...but, you don't mean it and that hurts the most, I think. Damn it_—

Taking his good hand, he made a grab for her bag. "I told you. I don't want you to go."

"That's not what you said before," she pointed out. _Remember? When you were saying that I wasn't sexy?_

"Well, it's what I'm saying now," he said with a small shrug. "Stay." With another swipe, he grabbed the bag, grinned when he caught it, and tossed it gently on the floor. "Stay," he repeated.

Staring at his brown eyes, Brennan thought she saw sincerity in them as they implored her not to go. And, for some crazy reason, she decided to see if he was being truthful or not. "Fine."

"Awesome," he grinned. And, then, somehow, in the span of about two minutes, the pair found themselves back in the bathroom.

Sighing as she again found herself in Booth's bathroom, she looked over at him and said, "To what purpose am I here, aside from your desire to have me here?"

"Well," he said, nibbling the inside of his lip as he tried to gather his loping, swirling thoughts as best he could. "You said yourself I need supervision in the bath, so, you can stay and help make sure I don't mess up this cast of mine." He grinned, waving his casted hand demonstratively as he glanced over at the tub. "And, I guess, it's sort of nice to keep a sick or injured friend company for a little while, you know. It's what friends are for, right?" He shrugged, then added, "and, you know, maybe there's a little part of you that wants to watch me take a bath."

"Goddamn," she said with a shake of her head as she sighed in amused exasperation again. "The belt buckle really isn't much of an exaggeration, you know that?"

"You think so?" he laughed. "Maybe you'd like to find out."

Her eyes flashed at him as she said, "Setting aside the fact that's the second time you've insinuated or sexually propositioned me in some way in the span of about two minutes, I meant about you being cocky, Booth. Cockiness—I meant you're being overtly arrogant and self-assured."

"Aw, hell," he said as he looked over at her, his eyes still dancing with amusement. "I thought all that was obvious. I'm just wearing the belt buckle in the interest of full disclosure there, Bones. Just trying to make sure you know what you're dealing with here."

Brennan stared at him for a few seconds, then rolled her eyes, and shook her head. "Your water's getting cold," she said, pointing at the tub. "Go take your bath. I'll wait just outside the door. If you need something, you can yell."

_Oh, no_, Booth thought._ No way. If I let you outta my sight, you're gonna bolt, so no way, no how. Nope, not happening_. Smiling at her, he nodded before he spoke. "You know, Bones," he said, stepping over the side of the tub and wading in such that the water reached just below his knees. "I'm not real sure I'm gonna be able to do this without help. I mean, get in here without getting my cast wet." He looked down and, bending his knees a bit, reached down and grasped the side of the tub with his left hand and tried to brace himself as he considered how to lower himself into the tub.

"You're not that clumsy," she said, as she watched him move. _Come on...what are you doing to me here, Booth? Is this payback for something I did to you? _ "Nor are you in that little control of your own momentum...ergo—are you blackmailing me, Booth?"

_Blackmail? _he thought. _Heh, no—that's your kind of move, Bones. Not mine._

"Bones," he grumbled. "You said yourself I damn near fell over trying to untie my shoes. Come on, give me a hand here." He bit the inside of his lip as a dark, lascivious voice inside his head added, _Or, come on, gorgeous, how about you give me a hand job? _He cleared his throat, trying to keep from losing his game face completely. _Because I bet those hands of yours, with those nice, slender little fingers and those smooth palms, could do all kinds of awesome things...epically awesome things, especially epically awesome things to my dick. Ummmm... _

Booth looked down at the tub and glanced over his shoulder to Brennan. _Wait...actually, I bet that mouth of yours would be even better. Yeah, I know it would. The way you kiss—that time under the mistletoe, in front of Caroline, and the time we kissed behind my old pool bar—the way your mouth worked mine, I just know you'd give the most mind-wrecking blow job ever. Yeah, so screw the hand job. I think I definitely know what I want, and it involves you, me, your mouth, and my stiff dick. Yeah, definitely. _He paused, tilted his head almost as if he wondered where _that _particular voice had come from and then quickly shook his head to push away the strange thoughts that were freely rattling around his head as he waited for her response.

"Not to belabor a point, but you're still in your boxers," she said with a nod. _I guess I should be thankful for some small favors._

"Oh," he said with a flash of his eyebrows. "Look at that. You're right. Shucks." He stood there next to the tub, the fingers of his left hand hooked just slightly over the waistband of his boxers, his casted hand hanging somewhat uselessly at his side.

"I'm not helping you remove them," she said pointedly. _You'll probably just do something to insult me again like call me by another woman's name. _"That's not happening, Booth, so...yeah—we're not even going there...just so you know."

_You know you want to, though, _he thought, as if by thinking it he could telegraph the words without having to actually speak them. _You know you do. It's not just me. It never has been. Admit it. _He hesitated for a second, trying to silence the libidinous voice in the back of his head. _Right? _He thought for a few seconds more before he then couldn't come up with any good reason that answered his question in the negative and nodded, quite pleased with himself. _I want her, she wants me...even if she doesn't want to admit it. Now, it's time to stop screwing around here. Game on, huh? _"It's not like you haven't seen me naked before, Bones. And like you said, you found my lack of Pilgrim modesty refreshing." He paused for a moment before he again tilted his head, looked at her, and then flashed an evil grin at her. "So...uhhh...care to refresh your recollection?"

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><p><strong>AN:**

_Huh. What's gonna happen next? _

**::snort::**

_Wouldn't you like to know?_

_Folks, let's be perfectly clear: _**Lesera128 **_and _**dharmamonkey** _live for reader reviews._

_We love to hear what people think of our work. We get very nervous when all we hear are crickets. But when people respond to our work, we are emboldened to keep writing. _

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_You know what to do, people. Click that little review button down there._

_Yep, right down there._

_That's the one._


	15. 15—Pulling the Goalie, Pt III

**A Very Bad Idea**

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><p><strong>By:<strong> dharmamonkey & Lesera128

**Rated: **M

**Disclaimer: **Ummm, nope, we still don't own anything. We have, however, apparently become squatters in the sandbox that we crashed... so, umm... yeah. So there we go.

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><p><strong>AN: **_Some serious unf is coming your way.__ If you can handle it, fasten your seatbelts, because here we go! If you can't, consider yourself duly warned. (By the way, the_ **dharmamonkey**_ thinks this chapter contains some of the best unf we've ever written. You folks decide.)_

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><p><strong>IV. Pulling the Goalie, Part III<strong>

**Pertinent Details on Scenario #4****: **Set at the beginning of episode 4x13: "Fire in the Ice."

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><p>Brennan stared at Booth for several seconds, taking in his impish grin and the fact that he seemed to be about thirty seconds or less from finding some way to strip down out of his boxers. As she looked at him, she bit back the first response that jumped into her mind as she considered his words, a quick reflex to correct his mis-substitution of the word 'Pilgrim' for 'Puritan'. Instead, as she studied him for a few seconds, several thoughts coursed through her mind. Looking at him, she tried to discern if he was teasing her again or—if the more blatant offer was any indication—he <em>was <em>actually serious.

_Because, he's not, right? _Brennan wondered. _I mean...he doesn't know what he's saying. Aside from the fact that he is under the heavy influence of a controlled opiate, to which he's never had the most predictable of responses, Booth just wouldn't say that. The other stuff with Wendell was just...what's the saying? Trash talking? 'Guys being guys'? It's all apart of the aggressive display of competitive/alpha male behavior in which they were engaging. He's not serious...right? _She stopped and then considered the earlier confession he'd made right when she'd been about to leave. _He told me he wanted me...that he always had and always would. Now, the question is, did he just say that because he didn't want me to leave? Or...was it something else?_

At a loss for how to answer that question, she fell back on old habits and went with the safer answer. _He's just teasing me. _Shaking her head slightly, she frowned slightly as she said, "You know, Booth, that's not very funny, so, please stop teasing me and take your damn bath, okay?"

Searching her eyes out with his own, he tried to give her as sincere and heartfelt a response as possible. "I'm not making any funnies, Bones," he said with a nod at her. _Because if I were, I can think of about a hundred better dirty jokes than one that has to do with you just looking at my dick. _ "Honest."

"So," she said, carefully running each word through her head before she spoke to make certain she wouldn't say something out of turn or that he might be able to use to his advantage. "Are you saying that I should take your offer at face value? And, while we're on that subject, what exactly are you offering me here? What, Booth...do you want me to engage in some type of prolonged aesthetic assessment of your genitalia? Because, I know what a penis looks like, so it's not like I need a refresher, okay?" she sighed. "Besides, I think you'd probably enjoy that more than I would, so there's really not any point to it, huh?"

"Nonsense, Bones," he said, reaching up with his free hand and threading his fingers through his hair. "Because, not to brag too much...but I can guaran-damn-tee you that my equipment is...uhhhh, well, not the norm, and as I seem to recall your eyes lingered for a moment down there that one time, I think you know that, too...so, come on. Be straight with me, huh, since we both know you must've liked what you saw."

She stared at him her mouth slightly agape as her nostrils slightly began to flare. She tried to convey her response with her eyes and could only manage to mentally convey a single word: _Really?_

"Okay, fine," he grumbled. _God, why do you have to be so damn stubborn all the damn time? _"The point is, you said you'd help me, and I'd like a hand here." He reached his hand down and began sliding his boxers off his left hip, then reached around in front, began to slide the shorts off of the other hip. "Getting into the tub," he clarified. "Because I'm capable of taking off my boxers." He reached behind and pushed his shorts off, shimmying them down this thighs with a smile before stepping out of them. The maneuver did, in fact, require enough of his focus that he had looked away and broken eye contact for a moment.

Not certain what response he expected his actions to garner, Brennan refused to look away at his brash behavior, but she also refused to comply with his request and kept her eyes firmly on his face. Taking a step forward, she extended an arm and said, "Fine. You can use my arm to brace yourself if you need to."

For once, Booth wordlessly complied, and she felt him squeeze her arm through the moderately heavy black zipper sweater that she was still wearing from the hockey game. Although her hat and scarf had been abandoned in her car, she still wore the sweater over her grey turtleneck. And, suddenly, as he grasped her arm for support as he lowered himself into the water, even though it was a rather innocuous touch of her arm, and as she heard him sink into the tub with the water sloshing around him, for once she felt that the sweater was making her just a bit _too _warm.

"You can look now, Bones," Booth said with more than a touch of teasing in his voice once he'd lowered himself into the water..

Brennan slowly let her eyes fall down to meet his, a bit of haughtiness coming into her gaze as she told him, "For your information, I wasn't not looking because I'm embarrassed about the notion of you being naked, Booth. I just refuse to let this situation degenerate any more than it already has."

"You think it's already degenerated, huh, Bones?" Booth laughed. "Because, if that's true, I'm not doing real well for myself."

Sighing, she crossed her arms again—a pose, she realized, she was coming to strike a _lot _since her partner had broken his hand. As she contemplated how best to frame a response to his question without putting herself in a position that would require the expelling of another sigh of frustration and/or exasperation, Brennan was apparently taking too long for Booth's liking.

"I don't like being ignored here, Bones," Booth told her with a touch of arrogant sullenness tinting his voice. "Pay attention to me."

"I _am _paying attention to you," Brennan said as she looked down at him.

"No," he said with a shake of his head. "No, you weren't."

"Yes, I was," she sighed.

"Well, now you are," he finally conceded. "But, you weren't before, and I hate that, so quit it, huh?"

"Or what?" Brennan suddenly snapped, realizing she was becoming more than a bit tired of Booth bossing her around. "You know what, Booth? I'm getting pretty tired of you either ordering me around or thinking that you can manipulate me into doing what you want. So, what are you going to do if I don't pay attention to you, huh?"

Arching an eyebrow at her, a flash of mischief burned in his eyes, and Brennan suddenly knew she'd overplayed her hand. _Oh, shit._

He cupped his good hand, and in the space of about two and a half seconds, he filled it with the still warm water of the tub, and then lifted his hand up in the air. It wasn't until that exact second that Brennan knew what he was doing, and then, of course, it was too late as he threw the water he held cupped in his palm with all the force he could muster in her general direction. Brennan didn't even have enough time to duck as the warm water hit her in the mid-torso, soaking the bottom half of her black sweater and the upper portion of her jeans.

"Booth!"

"Ha!" he grinned. Pointing at her with his good hand, he laughed. "Got you. I got you _so _good, Bones."

"Stop it!" she snapped at him. Looking down at her sweater, she stared opened mouth at the wet spot for several seconds before she lifted her gaze to meet his. "I can't believe you just did that."

"Believe it, baby," he snickered. "Because, I'm gonna do it here again in about two seconds if you don't start paying attention to me."

"Don't you dare," Brennan told him with an edge coming into her voice. "I mean it, Booth—and I'm serious. Stop that!"

"No way, jose!" Booth smirked. He then swooped his good hand back into the water, palmed another handful, and lifted it threateningly.

"Booth—" Brennan growled in clear warning.

His eyes darted mischievously from his hand to Brennan and back to his hand again. He narrowed his eyes and then began a rapid motion where he was slinging a significant amount of water at Brennan. She squealed in anger and surprise as he continued to lambast her with wave after wave of water pelting her. She ducked her head as her eyes darted around the room to try to figure out how to take cover. Her mind quickly deduced that, short of exiting the bathroom—something that she couldn't in good conscience do because of the challenge his assault had laid at her feet—she really only had one choice. Unwilling to back down, she knew that if she couldn't take cover from his barrage of drenching water bombs that Booth was lopping at her, then only one option really remained open to her. Letting out a loud yelp of warning, she stumbled towards Booth with the idea of going on the offensive. Rushing forward with her head down as she barreled towards him, her throaty cry drew his attention. For several seconds, Booth ceased in throwing water at her, and Brennan felt a rush of triumph at having achieved her goal.

"Ha!" she yelled at him.

"God, you're such a spoil sport," Booth pouted. "I was just trying to have some fun, here, Bones."

"And, now I'm soaked," Brennan said as she looked down at him with a displeased look on her face. She suddenly realized how much water that Booth had thrown at her. The wool of her black sweater was soaked as were her jeans. The dampness of the water made her skin chafe as the wool and denim stuck to her torso and legs. "Great," she sighed. "Just great."

However, as displeased as Brennan was with her now partially wet status, Booth seemed infinitely delighted at the turn of events. "Oh, I don't know, Bones," he told her. "It doesn't seem so bad. You look kinda...well, you kinda look sexy when you're standing there dripping." He stopped, not quite realizing what he said until he'd already said it. He looked up at her once, a bit nervous to see how she'd take his words, especially given how temperamental she'd been earlier.

As Brennan lifted her gaze to his eyes, as she saw him with an expectant light shining, she considered her options. _He's not playing with you_, one voice said in the back of her mind. _But, even if he's playing with you, it doesn't mean he's not sincere_, a second voice peaked up. _It's not so difficult to believe. He wanted you years ago. You're just as attractive and desirable now as you were_—_so, why doubt him? If he wants you...wants to do this, why say no? You've been dreaming about him for years, right? It's clear he's more than ready and willing to see what'll happen if you both want it to. You're both two consenting adults who are attracted to one another. You're also both professional enough to keep what happens in your private life compartmentalized from your partnership. You can keep work at work, and whatever this is...well, whatever this is at home. It doesn't have to get out of control. It can be on your terms. So, really...what's the problem here? You want him. You know it. It seems he knows that he wants you. Your body's been longing for his touch for who knows how long? It's illogical and irrational to deny what he's offering since there's no risk that you can get hurt. So, take it. Don't be a fool. Take it. _As the thoughts swirled in her head, she felt a warmth begin to spread through her as she nodded, happy with the reasoning that some part of her brain had pulled from the ether. _Yes, why not do it? I want it. He wants it. And, as long as I can control it, who's really going to get hurt? The answer is...no one. So, if he wants to do this, fine. Let's see how far he's really willing to take it._

Her decision made, Brennan looked at Booth with a new glint in her eyes.

Booth saw the twinkle in her eyes and felt a sharp tugging sensation behind his navel. The look in her eyes excited him and he felt himself harden under her gaze. _With a look like that, she's either gonna jump my bones in about two seconds, or she's gonna rip off my balls with her bare hands and feed 'em to me for dinner, _he thought a bit anxiously. _God willing, it's the first. Yeah, because if that was the one that was going to happen, that'd be awesome...Bones, jumping my bones...heh—God, that would be fucking epic. It would be fantastic in every fucking way, so come on, baby. You know you want it. I know I sure as fuck want it_—_want you. The way you're lookin' at me now, if I could figure a way outta this damn tub, I'd make the choice for you. I'd be up and outta here and touching you and that'd be it. So. come on, Bones. Do it. You know you want it. _

"So, you like the idea of me being dripping wet, huh, Booth?" Brennan said, her tone decidedly more sultry than it had been a few moments earlier. "Do you?"

He considered his words and then shrugged, unable to conceal his eagerness. "What, do you want me to lie, Bones?" he asked. "Because, the answer is no—you, being dripping wet? Naw, that doesn't seem like such a bad thing to me at all...whether you're dripping wet 'cause I splashed you since I think that maybe it wasn't such a terrible idea for you to cool off there...or 'cause you think I'm hot and a part of you wants to do something about it, huh?" He then gave her a decidedly cocky look. "Now, the question is...which is it?"

"Well," Brennan took a step closer to him and then realized that if she wasn't careful, she might slip given how much water was on the floor. "I suppose the best way to find out is to maybe conduct a thorough investigation so that you can find out for yourself, right?" She didn't wait for an answer as she slowly turned around and bent off as she reached down and lifted up her pant leg of her jeans enough so that she could unzip the pair of black boots that she was wearing. Quickly shrugging out of them, she kicked them aside and toed out of her thin white half socks before turning around to face Booth.

_Oh, Holy Mary, Mother of God, _Booth thought. _She's gonna do it. Oh my God. _He raised his eyebrows, amazed at the prospect that his partner was going to bare it all for him. _She's actually gonna do it. She's gotta want to do it, though, right? I mean, she's not doing this to tease me to death. She's got a wicked side, but she's not that bad, right? _He narrowed his eyes, a skeptical murmur in the back of his mind wondering if this was the punishment that she had promised him in the car after he'd run off at the mouth telling Wendell about his opinions of her finer features. _If she'd have wanted to torture me, she'd have found a lot easier way to do it, _he assured himself. _So she's gonna do it. Or, rather, do me. Or let me do her. Either way—hell, I don't care. I just want her, and soon—real fucking soon because I dunno how much longer I can take this once I start seeing skin. Her skin. Oh, Jesus._

Standing in her bare feet, she felt much, much better. She placed her hands lightly on her hips as she stared at him again. Booth, who had been watching the little show that Brennan had deliberately given him as she took off her boots, had remained silent and left Brennan's question unanswered. Smiling at him, she nodded and repeated his own words to him from earlier when she asked, "See anything you like, Booth?"

Although he had watched transfixed as she took off her boots, her words jolted him to awareness. He swallowed once as he gave her another smile. "Well, I dunno, Bones. Maybe you need to come a bit closer, so I can, uh, take a closer look."

Letting her hands drop from her hips, she brought them smoothly to the zipper on her black sweater. She never broke eye contact with him as she spoke in a voice that already seemed rougher to her than it had been just a few moments earlier. 'I think I can probably do that. But—"

"But?" Booth rasped, his voice also thick with desire as her words caused his hips to squirm against the floor of the tub, which in turn sent a bit more water splashing onto the bathroom floor.

"But," she gave him another smile. "First thing's first. Time to get these wet clothes off, huh?"

_Fuck yeah, _he thought as he winced at the tingle that tittered, first at the base of his spine, quickly sending surges of energy down his legs that made his calves twitch and curled his toes. _Take it off, baby, _he thought. _Take it all off. _He stopped as he tilted his head as he watched her and licked his lips n anticiaption. _Fuck, she's gonna do this, I think. I mean, it looks like she's actually gonna do it. And, if she is, then thank you, God. Oh, my—fuck, oh my fucking God...wow. She's gonna do it. Wow. Damn. _Booth sat up and wiggled his hips once more as he tried to hold onto a measure of his self-control, a tiny squeak sounding as his ass squirmed against the porcelain. His mouth hung open a little as he watched her reach for the zipper of her sweater. _Oh, wow._

Taking the silver zipper between her thumb and forefinger, she shivered a bit as she slowly pulled it down and shrugged out of the sweater. The sound of the _ziiippp _seemed to echo in the bathroom, and Brennan felt the pleasant warmth that had been pulsing throughout her body since she'd made her decision to see how far Booth was willing to take things grow stronger. Her heart rate had increased, and she knew her her skin was, at the very least, flushed a delicate pink. However, she'd never let a little thing like a simple tell-tale physical response get the better of her before she'd achieved her goal. _And, right now, _Brennan thought. _I want to see how far he's willing to take this. _

Nodding, more to herself than Booth, she shivered again when she let the wet black sweater fall at her feet with a distinct _plop_. Underneath her sweater, Brennan wore a light grey turtleneck that soon joined the black sweater on the bathroom floor. Once she'd removed it, she stood wearing a dark black tank top that was, for the most part, dry. However, never one to leave anything half-done, she pulled the tank lose from where she had tucked it into her jeans. Reaching behind her, she let her hands unclasp her bra, and she quickly shrugged out of the simple black demi-cup. Brennan felt Booth's eyes on her as she pulled the bra off while keeping the camisole in place. Letting it fall quietly to the floor, it was only when she'd taken it off that she dared to look up at him. As she'd anticipated, his eyes watched her every move with a clear mixture of hunger, want, and impatience growing in them.

Reaching for the snap of her jeans, Brennan nodded at Booth as she said, "You still haven't answered my question, Booth."

"Uhhh...huh?" he said as he swallowed once, still unable to meet her eyes as his attention was focused on her hands and the parts of her that her hands were touching. He took a shallow breath as he watched her fingers hover, quivering, over the brass snap in the front of her waistband. _Come on, baby, _he thought, silently encouraging her to continue, unable to remember in that moment why on earth she would have stopped undressing. He licked his lips again unconsciously as he wondered what she would look like under those jeans. _I've been watching that ass of yours for years, Bones, checking it out. I've memorized every inch of your fucking curves, baby. It's time to show me that amazing Bonesy goodness you've been hiding from me, huh? 'Cause you know you want to. I want to see you. See you...touch you...taste you...slide inside of you and bury myself so deep in you that I'll never find my way out again. So, go ahead and take it off, baby. Take it off, so I can do you, and then you can do me, and start all over again. Come on. Now. Yeah. Do it._. "You, ahhh—you say something, Bones?"

Brennan couldn't help but chuckle as she slowly unzipped the jeans and pushed them off of her hips and peeled the wet garment off of her legs. As she leaned down, she purposely angled her body so that Booth had an excellent view of her cleavage as her breasts almost spilled out of the loose confines of the simple cotton camisole. She thought she might've heard something that sounded like a cross between a strangulated half-moan and a half-growl. However, she merely smiled to herself as she shimmied out of the jeans and slowly kicked them away from her. Straightening her posture, she looked up at him now clad only in the black camisole and a rather simple pair of black cotton bikinis. Bringing her hands to her hair, she ran her fingers through it for a few seconds before she took another step towards the tub, swaying her hips a bit as she went.

"I asked you a question, Booth," she said as she continued closing the distance between them, glancing down at him as he lay there, his legs splayed apart lazily, his broken right arm dangling over the edge of the tub as his left hand cupped his knee. "Remember?"

"Ummm, no," he said with an easy smile. Shifting his head as he looked up at her, Booth said, "I must've tuned out a bit there, Bones. But, if you tell me again, I promise I'll pay attention."

Shrugging lightly as she now came to stand in front of the bathtub, Brennan shook her head as she said, "It's sort of a moot point now, Booth, but I do have another question you can answer for me."

"Sure, Bones," he said, swallowing again as he let his eyes run up and down her body. He felt his fingers tingle as he fought the impulse to reach his good hand into the water and start to do something about the nearly-painful arousal he felt. _Nope. Not gonna do that...not when I might get something way better than just jacking off in the tub to take care of business. So, God, Bones, _he thought. _Please. You better be getting in this damn tub with me, baby, or I'm gonna die here of the worst fucking case of blue balls ever known to medical science. _He twisted his ass against the bottom of the tub, trying desperately to get some relief as he waited, his breaths rising and falling harder with every passing second, to see if she would help him achieve the relief he desperately needed. _Come on, baby. What do I need to tell you to get you in this goddamn tub with me right now?_ "What do you want to know?"

With a surprising ease of dexterity, Brennan lifted first one foot into the tub and then the other. As she stepped into the tub, she was surprised—but, not _that _surprised given how much water had been splashed at her and onto the bathroom floor—how little water remained in the tub...no more than three or four inches. Coming to kneel before him, she faced Booth as she lowered her head so that they were almost on the exact same eye level. "Well," Brennan began. "I know I promised to help you take your bath, but now I'm wondering if there might not be something more...helpful that I could do for you given our current situation."

"Oh?" he responded, in a voice that cracked just enough that it made him wince. _Yeah, I can think of something, _he added silently, hoping that the wicked glint in her eyes meant what he thought it did. He reached his good hand over and gripped the edge of the porcelain tub as he watched her kneel between his legs. _Oh, fuck, _he thought as he felt his balls hitch in anticipation of feeling her touch.

"Yes," Brennan said with a nod. Slowly, her fingers lightly traced up the line from halfway up his leg, through the wet, light brown curls of hair that covered his leg, and up to his kneecap. Letting her fingers rest there for a few seconds, she tapped his knee slightly as she tilted her head and looked at him as she asked with a smile, "So, my question is...how far do you want to take this, Booth?"

Brennan didn't even have to wait two seconds before the answer came—firm, strong, and demanding. "As far as you want, Bones."

"And, if I want to take it all the way?" she breathed, her voice husky with want.

"Then...we go all the way," he said, his eyes looking heavy lidded with a languorous desire shining out from beneath them. _I'm so fucking ready for this_—_more than ready. So, yeah...definitely. Let's get it on. Please._ "All the way."

Looking up at him, she nodded with an evil grin on her ripe and voluptuous full set of brightly pinked lips. Gently, she let her hand creep up the delicate skin of his inner thigh until she reached her goal and grabbed him firm and tight in her hand. She heard as Booth drew in a sharp breath as she fisted him in the palm of her hand. Her smile growing, she nodded again as she said, "Then we go all the way."

This time, there was no mistaking the strangulated groan that emanated from Booth's mouth as she stroked him. It came out in a single choked mutter of incoherence. "_Mmmnnnlllpphhh_."

Unable to help herself, and suddenly feeling very empowered, Brennan smiled lightly. "You know, Booth, many men have often said that the best blow job they've ever received was from a woman of the Asian ethnicity. It's a common misconception that because such women are thought to be more culturally docile and submissive, they're able to better please the male in what is sometimes referred to as playing the flute." As she spoke, she took her thumb and rimmed the hood of his penis with its tip in slow and tortuous circles. He sucked in his breath between his teeth at the sensation, knowing in that moment by the way she worked his tenderest flesh that this—whatever _this _was—was going to be one of the most mind-numbingly amazing things he had ever experienced. "Particularly in American culture, the practice of fellatio is seen as so taboo that men won't even discuss even though studies have shown a significant statistical number of men feel that achieve stronger orgasms during intercourse if they get sucked off during foreplay." Bringing her thumb over the tip of his cock, she again smiled at the deep moan that rumbled in his chest as she saw several drops of opalescent precum had already started to collect there. "But, seeing as how the term 'fellatio' is from the Latin word 'fellare' which means to suck, I'm thinking that you're probably ready for me to switch from stimulating you with my hands to my mouth, huh?"

She didn't give him much time to answer as she quickly lowered her head to his cock and took just the top of it in her mouth. He was already hard, and she knew he'd been stiff for a while, so she didn't anticipate him lasting that long. _I'm going to taste him, but first...I want him to suffer. Just a little bit. Especially for all those shitty comments he made earlier...just a little bit. But, it's not like I didn't warn him that he was going to get punished. So, yeah_—

Much as if he were a popsicle, she took her velvety tongue and twirled it around the top of his dick, licking first one half of it with the rough side of her tongue before she let the smooth side of the back of her tongue roll over the side. She continued to make several circles as she licked him several times, while her fingers stroked the soft, wrinkly skin of his balls. She stopped for a few seconds, palming them in her hand and giving them a slight squeeze and was more than pleased when she felt Booth buck his hips from the bottom of the tub and up towards her mouth.

"Jesus Christ," he groaned, sucking in another breath between his teeth as he felt every nerve ending in his body crackle at the sensations she was stoking with her tongue, lips and fingers.

Chuckling, she let her hands fall away as she gently moved her mouth away from where she'd been licking him. Although her head was still between his thighs, her blue eyes looked up into his intensely darkened ones. "Hmmm," she murmured. "Pupils dilated, nostrils flared, perspiration's noted on your forehead...if I didn't know better, I'd say you were becoming overstimulated, Booth. And, I haven't even started sucking yet."

"You're trying to kill me, aren't you?" he asked her, his teeth gritted and his voice low and raspy in his throat.

"If I wanted to kill you, I can guarantee you that there are several more expedient and less pleasurable ways that I would do it than sucking you off," she said. "Now, here's how this is going to go...unless you have any objections. Much like the clitoris for a female, the glans or head of a penis is actually the most sensitive. That's why I was paying close attention to that part of your cock a couple of minutes ago." He grunted and then moaned at her words as she rolled his balls once more gently between her fingers. She stopped and then gave him a knowing look as she said, "Did you like that?"

"You know I did," he said hoarsely, his mouth hanging open as his breaths fell in pants.

"So, then," she chuckled. "I'm going to put your dick back in my mouth—"

She saw Booth swallow once, but he said nothing at her words and so she continued.

"And, then I'm going to suck your cock until there's not a single drop left." She paused again as she tilted her head at him for emphasis. "Now, are there any complaints you have with that idea or suggested modifications you'd like to make to that plan of action?"

"Fuck no," he replied, barely managing a whisper.

"Good," Brennan said, as she leaned forward again and her lose hair fell over her shoulders and across the soft skins of his thighs. "Very good, because I'm not moving my mouth from your cock until you've come, and I've lapped up every single bit there is."

This time when she leaned down and wrapped her pouty lips around his cock—_this _time, Brennan didn't waste any time with preliminaries. Taking him into her mouth, she slid down the length of his dick until she reached the base at a very measured pace. She could tell, glancing up at his face to see his teeth gritted and his eyes squeezed firmly shut, and she knew that Booth was holding back since he'd made a single movement since he'd unintentionally bucked his hips once earlier. _Come on, Booth_, she thought evilly. _I never took you for the passive type during any type of sex act. Quit holding back._

As if to illustrate her point, as she leaned down further until she felt the tip of his cock at the base of her throat. She purred slightly, allowing him to feel the reverberation of the sound against him before she just as quickly began to move her head up and down.

For his part, Booth knew he was close even before his partner wrapped her deliciously wet lips around his cock and began to suck. _Jesus. I'm never gonna be able to look at her lips the same way again. _"_Mmmmmnnnggthh_," he moaned. _Not that I—oh, fuck!—not that I would want to. _Closing his eyes, he let his head loll to the side a bit as his good hand instinctively let go of the side of the tub and threaded his fingers into her silky hair. "Oh, fuck, Bones—"

Almost as if he'd said the magic words, she began to move more quickly up and down the length of his cock, alternating between sucking and letting the tip of her tongue twirl over the minute veins of his sensitive skin on the underside of his shaft. He groaned again as she moved, picking up speed, and unable to help himself, his fingers curled and fisted a handful of her shiny auburn hair, and he pulled her closer to him.

"_Fuuuuccckkk_," he groaned.

As she continued to half suck and half lick him into oblivion, Booth again lifted his hips and began to thrust into her mouth as he felt himself rapidly cresting towards release. Brennan, quite pleased with his response, was content to let him take a more active role. Widening her lips a bit, she stopped moving as she felt him push her head down as he pistoned into her mouth. Very, very quickly she felt his body tense as he continued to push into her mouth, his tightly-swollen tip hitting the back of her throat several times.

"Holy fuck," he growled, a part of his brain remembering that it was important to let her know that he wasn't just feeling this way because it was any wet mouth that was sucking him into oblivion. But, at that point, the only words he could summon up to moan was the name of the Almighty and her own. "Jesus, Bones—"

Smiling at him—not an easy feat given that he was ramming his cock into her mouth—Brennan felt her own arousal beginning to build as he brooked closer to his release. _Come on, Booth...stop fighting it. You're close. I can tell. Just give in._

With not many options to vary the pattern lest she interrupt his rhythm, all Brennan could do was use her deft fingers to lightly squeeze his ball sack again. As she did so, Booth's hips rolled up with a particularly hard thrust as he suddenly exploded inside her mouth.

"Fuck," he whispered as he felt himself spend. Shaking as he shot his warm come into her mouth, he squeezed his eyes shut as he moaned, "Fuck, fuck, _fuck_—Bones..._fuuuuccckkk_."

As she'd promised him, she sucked him dry until she'd swallowed every single drop. When they were done, he leaned back in the tub, his hand falling away as he untangled his fingers from her hair and a strange thought bounced into his head as he realized that his casted arm had only been kept from getting wet since he'd hung it over the edge of the tub during the entire exchange. Brennan let his now-soft cock fall away from her mouth with a smile as she slid her tongue over the roof of her mouth. Sitting back up in the tub, even though she was still on her knees, she became aware of the fact that her panties were soaking wet—a fact that had little if nothing to do with the fact that a few inches of lukewarm water were still in the bottom of the tub. As she looked at Booth, his eyes still close and his muscular body rosy-hued with his release, something suddenly clicked in Brennan's head as she realized what had just happened. An errant thought of rationality reared its ugly head as she saw the naked and wet body of her partner sitting in front of her, limp and satiated because she'd just performed oral sex on him. A wave of panic started to travel through her.

_Shit_, she mentally chided herself. _What have I done...what have we done?_

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><p><strong>AN:**

_Hmmm. That was fun. But Brennan's brain just clicked back on. Ruh-roh. What's gonna happen now? Booth's been rendered into man-jelly. Can he get his shit together in time to keep Brennan from doing something unfortunate (like leaving)?_

**::snort::**

_Wouldn't you like to know?_

_Folks, let's be perfectly clear: _**Lesera128 **_and _**dharmamonkey** _live for reader reviews._

_We love to hear what people think of our work. We get very nervous when all we hear are crickets. But when people respond to our work, we are emboldened to keep writing._

_Simply put, here's the math: More reviews = happier writers = quicker updates._

_You know what to do, people. Click that little review button down there._

_Yep, right down there._

_That's the one._


	16. 16—Pulling the Goalie, Pt IV

**A Very Bad Idea**

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><p><strong>By:<strong> dharmamonkey & Lesera128  
><strong>Rated: <strong>M  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>Ummm, nope, we still don't own anything. We have, however, apparently become squatters in the sandbox that we crashed... so, umm... yeah. So there we go.

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><p><strong><span>AN & Unf Alert****:** _The next chapter is pretty dang unf, if we do say so ourselves.__ (We're biased, sure, but we haven't been wrong yet. "Not about anything important.") __Please note: the authors are not responsible for small house fires, ammunition cook-off, hot flashes, inconvenient episodes of full-body blushes, unexplained sweating or premature labor triggered by reading this type of epic unfness. __You've been warned._

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><p><strong>IV. Pulling the Goalie, Part IV<strong>

**Pertinent Details on Scenario #4****: **Set at the beginning of episode 4x13: "Fire in the Ice."

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><p>As Brennan considered the ramifications of what had just happened between the pair of partners in the bathtub, suddenly the confines of the bathroom were just a bit too small. Adrenaline coursed through her body as she fought to swallow a metaphorical wave of panic. Knowing she needed to put some distance between them, she was on her feet in a moment. She felt pinpricks in her legs due to lack of circulation, but she forced her wobbly feet to comply as she climbed out of the tub, bolted from the bathroom, and sought refuge in the safety of the bedroom—a move, she might later come to realize, given the source of her panic, might not have been as safe a refuge as she'd originally anticipated.<p>

It took Booth several long seconds to realize what was happening. Brennan was already on her feet and out of the tub by the time he opened his eyes and his mind, dulled by his post-orgasmic haze, finally started to process what he was seeing.

"Wait," Booth croaked, jerking himself up into an upright position in the tub and causing a small wave of what was left of the lukewarm water to splash over the side of the tub onto the tile floor. "Where are you going? What—?" He watched her walk out of the bathroom into his bedroom and disappear behind the door jamb. "Wait, aren't you going to—?" He pouted his lips and swiped at the surface of the water in frustration, splashing another handful of water on the floor. "Dammit, Bones!"

With a grunt, he tried to heave himself up with one hand but slipped again into the tub. He scowled and rolled over onto his knees, sending yet another wave of soapy water onto the floor. He lifted himself up with a sigh and stepped out of the tub, nearly slipping on the tile before catching himself on the pedestal sink.

"Where'd ya go, Bones?" he asked, narrowing his eyes as he glanced briefly at the reflection in the mirror. His left cheekbone seemed a bit puffy from the one solid punch Pete Carlson managed to land. He grinned at the thought of laying another man flat on the ice with his fists, in full view of his partner. _Ya like that, Bones? _he thought. _You liked seeing me get all alpha-male like that, pummeling the fuck outta another guy with my bare hands? I bet you did, huh? _He smirked at the reflection in the mirror. _I mean, hell, Bones_—_if I'd have known that beating the crap outta another guy was gonna put you in the mood, I'd have done that long time ago. _He reached up and scratched the stubble on the side of his jaw, frowning a little as he thought that he normally shaved before a date, just in case one thing led to another. _Is one thing gonna lead to another? Is that it? Is that what just happened? Are we done now...or is there something more to be had here, huh? _He lifted his chin and regarded himself critically in the mirror before turning to listen for her in the other room. _Of course, I'll never fucking figure it out if I can't find her. This is sorta a two-person thing, Bones. Now, where'd you go? _

"Yoohoo..." He reached for the bath towel that was hanging on the hook behind the door and rubbed the towel across his chest and over his crotch, wincing briefly as he realized in his half-haze that he was getting hard again. He reached up and passed the towel over his hair, rubbing a bit of the excess water out of his hair and sending it sticking up in twenty different directions in the process. "Hey, Bones!" He looked down at the towel for a fleeting moment before tossing it carelessly behind him, letting it fall squarely on the huge puddle he'd made next to his tub.

Booth leaned against in the doorway as he saw Brennan standing near his bedroom window, spreading the blinds apart with her fingers and looking down at the street below.

Although she knew he was there, she was still holding on to the last few precious seconds that she knew she desperately needed if she was going to allow things to continue to their natural conclusion. _For whatever that is_, she thought. _Now, come on, Brennan. Be logical. There is absolutely no reason to have any negative responses to what just occurred. You performed oral sex on your partner...or, better yet, you gave your partner_—_you gave Booth_—_a blow job. He seemed to enjoy it. Obviously, since you're sexually aroused, some part of you physically responded to the situation's stimuli. So, what's the problem? What, in any of that, is cause for concern or panic? You still have control of the situation. You said you wanted to see how far he was willing to take it. So, if you want an answer to that question, since you know he's standing behind you and watching you, why not wipe that scared little-girl lost look off your face, turn around, and see what he's willing to do? And, if you want_—_enjoy things for what they are. He certainly seemed to...so isn't it only fair that you do the same? _Swallowing once, Brennan drew several deep breaths before to calm herself as she waited for Booth to make the first move.

He swallowed at the sight of her, standing there in a spaghetti-strap camisole and black panties, and he felt his balls hitch as he hardened, his eyes skating up and down the length of her long, creamy legs.

"Why'd you leave me like that?" he asked at last.

Brennan swiveled her head around and looked at him, her pale gray eyes reflecting the rosy-hued neon light that flickered from the liquor store below his apartment. "I didn't leave you, Booth," she said evenly. "If I'd have intended to leave, I wouldn't be standing here, now would I?"

"Are you trying to confuse me here, Bones?"

"No," she said simply.

"Then, what were you doing just now?" he questioned her.

"Thinking," she told him. "Just thinking."

"Uhhh, why?" he asked.

"Why what?" she responded as she inclined her head.

"Why, after all that awesomeness that just happened...why are you wasting a bunch of time thinking?" he blinked at her.

Brennan considered his words and then nodded. "Point taken, Booth." Looking at him with a critical eye, she said, "But, seeing as how I'm not the one who's standing there naked, it seems as if I'm not the one who needs to do something, right?"

"Would you like me to?" he asked with a laugh and a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows. "I mean, I don't like to brag, but I can do some pretty awesome things in a normal set of circumstances, but, now, seeing as how I do look pretty awesome naked, maybe I can do even more awesomer things now, huh? Wanna try me and find out?"

"There we go with the ego again." Brennan arched an eyebrow as the corners of her mouth curved into a crooked grin. _He really is quite charming when he wants to be. So, if he wants to do this, then fine. Let's do this. _"But, seeing as how I'm well aware of that at this point in time, Booth, I figured we might try something more involved than just looking, right?" She licked her lips and looked his nude, damp form up and down, her gaze falling to rest on his cock, which stood nearly at full mast as his brown eyes flickered with desire. "So, I ask again—are you just going to stand there, naked and aroused, or are you going to do something about that, well, little issue you have there?"

"No," Booth grunted as he reached down and fisted his cock. _Whoa, _he thought. _She's game. She's actually gonna go all the way here. Wow. _He scrunched his brows briefly. _Why are you just standing there, Booth? What, do you need an engraved invitation or what? That incredibly fucking hot woman just gave you the fucking green light. Green means go, boy. Go. Get your ass in gear and make your move. Go get 'er._

He looked down at his hand as he watched, almost as if in slow motion, his fingers curl around his hardening length. He blinked at the sight, puzzled for a moment at why the sensation seemed so odd when he'd jerked himself off a hundred times—at least that many times, probably more—as he drank in the image of his partner. It took several long moments, several more than it should have considering he was more than a little distracted by the sensation of his hand sliding up and down the shaft, dragging the skin a little back and forth in anticipation of what it would feel like to finally bury himself in her, balls-deep. Then, shaking his head a little, it occurred to him what seemed a little off about the way he looked holding himself in his hand this way: it was the wrong hand. He never yanked himself with his left hand—always with his right. Another crooked grin broke across his face as he thought about how his now-useless, busted-up hand was the same one he shot with, and how, just as he didn't really have a "wrong hand" when it came to shooting his pistol, he didn't really have a wrong hand when it came to, well, other things.

_Don't just stand there like a horny deaf-mute. Make your move. Go._

"Who are you calling 'little' there, Bones?" He stroked himself a couple of more times as he dragged his gaze up from her smooth, silky thighs up to her breasts, where he swore he could see her nipples peaking beneath her camisole. He narrowed his eyes and watched her. _Maybe, now that you've had a taste, you're ready for the main course. _He smiled at the thought. _I'm ready for the main course...yeah, so fucking ready. I don't think I will be able to make it through the night with just a little appetizer like that_—_as awesome as it was. _"Lemme guess...this is your way of telling me that you want to find out just how well I can size up, huh?"

"The size of your penis is not the 'little issue' I was referring to there, Booth," Brennan explained. "In fact, I was making reference to the fact that, notwithstanding the impressive length and girth of your penis, I'm curious to find out how skillfully you actually can be given the fact that you only have one usable hand."

"So, uh, wait," Booth stammered, surprised that, after what she had just done minutes before and the apparent compliment she'd given his anatomy just moments earlier, she would challenge him so brazenly. "You think I can't fuck you properly if I only have one hand?"

"I don't know, Booth," she gave him a playful grin. "Do I?"

"Hmmmm," he said. "If you do, I'd say that that's probably selling me a bit short there, Bones."

Brennan shrugged with lascivious half-grin on her face. "I'm sure, with a certain amount of assistance, you can make do, but after the aggressive display of raw alpha male dominance and physical potency I saw tonight—a contest in which you clearly emerged the victor, notwithstanding the relatively minor injury you suffered in the process—I was hoping to enjoy the benefit of your complete repertoire, not just whatever you can manage with your limited capabilities."

_Assistance? Make do? _"Wait, what?" Booth shook his head in confusion. "So, wait, are you saying you were impressed by my capabilities earlier tonight but now you think my capabilities are limited? 'Cause if you think I can't show you a good time here, Bones, you've got another thing coming."

"I was hoping that was the case," she said with a suggestive smirk. "The 'another thing coming' part of that statement, that is."

Booth narrowed his eyes as his lagging mind struggled to catch up with Brennan's high-speed train of thought. "So what do you want, Bones?" he asked, closing the distance between them in three short strides before he even consciously realized he had moved. He sidled up behind her, shooting his left arm out and planting it between her and the window as he brushed his casted right hand against the small of her back. "Because, even though you haven't said it, we both know how good I am at reading people, and I think I can read you like the back of my hand," he chuckled. "Yeah, I think I know _exactly _what you want."

"Do you?" she breathed, her heart catching in her throat.

"Yeah, I do," he said. "And I think I'm just the guy who can give it to you."

"Oh, really?" Brennan asked, brushing her hip against his arousal as she turned to face him. Booth hissed at the sensation. "Is that so?"

"You fuckin' better believe I can," he replied, his voice dropping a half-octave as he pressed his groin into her, angling his head as he leaned in close to her with a crooked grin. "So, you wanna find out?" he groaned, wincing as a raw tingle of want pulsed at the base of his spine. He laughed, his voice deep as he pinned her back against the wall. "You started something back there in the tub, Bones. I think you mentioned something about us doing some investigating, and I don't think we finished, uhhh, doing our investigation into things."

"Things?" Brennan breathed. "Or each other?"

"You know what I mean, Bones," Booth told her. "Now, you wanna see how far we can actually take this thing? Because, I think you do—and I sure as hell know I do."

"Agreed," she said simply, thrusting her pelvis against his with a soft grunt. "I think it's time for you to put your money where your mouth is, metaphorically speaking, and show me what you can do."

"Huh," he grunted, reaching for her hip with his one good hand as he leaned in, brushing his lips across hers. "Sounds like a good idea," he said, pulling away a bit as Brennan's mouth grasped at his. He grinned at the gesture for a moment, then something in his foggy mind snapped, and, with another low grunt, he leaned in and kissed her, his open mouth covering her thin, slightly gaping lips. He felt her moan into his kiss as her lips parted, allowing his tongue to slide over her teeth and twirl against hers. Her mouth clutched at his, grasping for him as their tongues tangled.

"Mmmm," she murmured, reaching her hands around to cup his bare ass, squeezing each of his cheeks in her hands.

He smiled against her lips as he pulled away from her mouth. "I've got a question for you, Bones..."

"Hmmm?" she moaned, automatically pushing herself closer to him.

"At the rink, earlier...did it turn you on to see me fighting that guy Carlson?" he asked, groaning at feeling her groping his ass.

"Mmmm?" she responded.

"Because you know what, Bones? I think it did," He pressed into her, letting her feel exactly how hard he was as his erection brushed across the soft skin at the top of her thigh. "Yup, it did, didn't it? I just bet it did," he said, punctuating his point with another firm thrust before he took a step back. "You got all wet just sitting there, watching me muscle around those other guys, lay that other guy on the ice with my bare hands, huh? Didn't ya?" He reached down with his good hand and let it dip under the waistband of her black panties. He smiled as he heard Brennan hiss lightly when he threaded his hands through her outer curl and smacked his lips at feeling the moisture there. "Mmmmm...yeah," he said hoarsely. "And, there it is, huh, Bones? So, I think you might have to admit it there. You got all fuckin' wet watching me out there tonight."

"Maybe...it was slightly invigorating," she murmured, closing her eyes and biting her lip as she felt his arousal, smooth and rigid, in the cleft where her hip and thigh met.

"Admit it," he cajoled her lightly. "Come on, Bones. Don't hold out on me."

_Don't hold out on you? _she frowned. _I just sucked you dry and gave you one of the best orgasms of your damn life, Booth. How on earth can you possibly think I am holding out on you in any way? You've got to be kidding me._

"I'm not Cam, Booth," Brennan said, jerking her head so that she met his eyes. "Although I do believe that she said earlier that she liked your aggressive testosterone displays 'a bit too much,' so if that's the admission you're looking for right now, I can get my cell phone for you so you can call her."

"What?" Booth shook his head and stared at her in narrow-eyed puzzlement. "What are you talking about, Bones?"

"I'm here now," Brennan said. "I let you touch me like you're touching me, I'm touching you like this, I just sucked you off—" she stopped and gave him a wry smile. "Isn't that good enough?"

"Good enough?" he coughed. "It was fucking awesome—but, come on, now."

"What?" she said, her tone becoming more clipped. _What do you want from me, Booth? _

"I need more, Bones—"

Her jaw tightened as her eyes hardened. _No, _she mentally groaned. _That's not how it's supposed to go. You take what I give, I take what you give, and that's it. No more than that, Booth. It can't be, because if it is, then this isn't...well, this just isn't what it's supposed to be. And, it has to be. It has to stay as it is and not be anything more than that. _ "Well, I'm sorry," she said with a shake of her head. "That's too bad because that's all I've got to give you, Booth." She then narrowed her lips into a thin, firm line as she said, "You can take it or leave it."

"Really?" he laughed at her with a shake of his head as he let his good hand fall away from where it had rested on her hip underneath the thin cotton of her black panties. "I don't believe you. I don't believe that you'd drive me home from the hospital, instead of putting my sorry ass in a cab, then you come up here, give me a bath, suck me off like that—which _was _fucking awesome, by the way, in case I didn't mention it before—and then you stand over here by my bedroom window, waiting for something, all because you're just feeling generous? Nope, Bones. Not even in my—" Booth stopped and snickered. "—_weakened_ condition would I believe that complete and total load of bullshit that you're peddling there. Nuh-uh. I'm just not buyin' it here."

"Whether you choose to consume the response or not is none of my concern. It is as it is...my motives for why this is happening is as I've explained them—"

"No," he cut her off. "I don't think so."

"—so, as I said," she continued talking over him. "You can take it or leave it, as I said, Booth," Brennan muttered, tilting her head so that her warm breath puffed out of her moist lips against his jaw in a way that sent tingles down his spine. "But, that's it. Don't...just don't push me for more than that?"

"Huh," he grunted. "Why can't you just admit why you're really here? You're wet as fuck right now—I mean, not just your clothes but that hot little pussy of yours—and you just want to, what? Watch the Rachel Maddow Show with me and maybe do a crossword puzzle or two before you bid me goodnight? Or what? Because what you're saying with those delicious little lips of yours, and what the rest of your body is saying—well, they just don't add up, Bones." He raised his chin and looked at her, his dark eyes glittering with skeptical laughter. "Come on. 'Fess up, here, Bones. You're still here 'cause you want something more than just a screw. I know, you know, we both know we both know it, so what gives? Why can't you just say it?"

"Say what?" she retorted, a bit more sharply than she'd intended.

"You want something more." He flared his nostrils as he cocked his head and stared at her. _Come on, Bones, _he thought. _I want it, too._

"I have no issue with us continuing our prior activities that were, seemingly, going to culminate in us having sexual intercourse, Booth," she said, a wry smile coming onto her lips. "But, just so you understand...this is on my terms, not yours."

Booth stared at her with an appraising look for a long minute. His inky dark irises stared into Brennan's cool and light ones. Taking a step towards her, he lowered his voice as he said, "And what terms are those, Bones?"

Brennan felt her heart rate increase slightly as she sensed his rapacious pull in the huskiness of his tone and bearing. Swallowing once, she felt a familiar sense of panic plucking at the edges of her conscious mind. _This is __not__ a big deal. Don't make it more complicated than it needs to be, Brennan. It's simple...you, Booth, and sex. That's it. That's all there is. You're the one who's in complete control here, so there's no need to panic. There's nothing to be afraid of...so, just...go with it._

"There's really just one term, Booth," she said, as she leveled a fictitiously calm stare at him. "Just one."

"You gonna make me ask twice, Bones, or what?" he shrugged at her, his voice jagged with sarcasm. He again nudged her knees apart slightly with his thigh and pushed into her a bit. _You're making this way too complicated, Bones, _he thought. _It doesn't have to be complicated. We've been growing into each other for years. This is the next step, isn't it? The fact that you're still here means something here. Just go with it, baby. Turn that blazing brain of yours down to low for just an hour so you can let your heart catch up. It's time to stop trippin' ourselves up here. Let's just let it ride._

"No," she said softly with a small shake of her head as she felt a wave of heat start to leap off his naked skin and into hers, almost as if his body warmth was a tangible thing that could be easily quantified. "It's..."

"What?" he asked again, tilting his head as he looked at her. "What?"

"Ummm..." Brennan's grip on the situation was rapidly slipping as she felt a dizziness make it increasingly difficult for her to concentrate on anything but how warm he felt and how the coarse hairs of his leg brushed against the very soft, creamy skin of her inner thigh. "Ummm...it's—"

"Yeah?" he said again, leaning his head so that it was just a couple of inches away from her ear. "You said that part already."

The one small rational part of her mind that was left mentally screamed for her to take control of the situation instead of ceding control of it to him as she seemed so desperately close to doing. _Focus, Brennan. Focus, damn it._

"Condition," she groaned, her breath hot and moist as she exhaled in a force of air. "One condition...it's—"

"Still waiting here, Bones," he whispered, biting back a laugh. "You gonna tell me or what?" he asked, emphasizing his question with an impatient thrust of his hip against her. He could feel his balls hitch a little at the way her warm, smooth skin felt against his leg, and he winced as he tried to focus on her words.

Tilting her head, she met his eyes and swore she could see the same want and need that she felt mirrored in his own gaze. Lost for a moment, allowed herself the luxury of letting her lips fall into his. The kiss was soft at first, and when he quickly thrust his tongue into the wetness of her mouth, Brennan was more than willing to let any and all cognizant thoughts of terms and conditions and other caveats, contractual or otherwise, fall right out of her rational mind. However, when Booth's hand skimmed down the curve of her torso, his palm flat as he let his skin brush over the smoothness of her tank top, by the time his fingers went to the hem of her camisole and tugged at it, something snapped Brennan's mind away from the physical. Her body tensed, and she pulled back slightly, leaning as much into the wall as she could to separate them in what was really an effort in futility.

"Term," she finally groaned. "The term is that you aren't the one in control here," she said, her tongue darting out to wet the corner of her mouth. His glassy eyes seemed more interested in following the curve of her mouth and watching the point of her tongue than actually concentrating on the words she was speaking. To illustrate her point, and in an attempt to reassert her authority and self-control, Brennan said, "This is only happening because I'm letting it happen and that's it."

He smirked and licked his own lips as his eyes remained fixed on hers. "Oh really?" he snickered. "So what is it, exactly, that you want to happen here?" He leaned into her again, pressing her into the wall as a painful tightness tugged low behind his navel. He knew what he wanted to happen, and he was certain he knew what she wanted, too, but in that moment he wasn't sure how to get her to come clean and admit it.

"I'm half-naked in your bedroom, Booth," she said.

"Yeah," he smirked again. "You are. And, as fucking _fantastic _as you look half-naked, I'm pretty sure I'd like you better fully naked. Yeah...I'm pretty certain of it."

Flushing a bit at his praise, she allowed herself to smile a bit as she said, "So, I'm here...with you, in very little clothing, and since I haven't started to dress again...perhaps you could try a little deductive reasoning here. What normally comes next in this situation, hmmm?"

"Deductive reasoning?" he grumbled, an open-mouthed grin hanging off his words. "I'd rather go for the seductive reasoning there, Bones. 'Cause I'm pretty good at that."

"Fine," she nodded in agreement. "Then, as I'm sexually aroused, as apparently are you, and if you want to show me...what were your earlier words...'how good' you can be? Fine. Then prove it," she told him. She paused for a minute, shaking her head with a small smile as she then added, "Of course, only with the understanding that this is happening because _I_ say so...and for no other reason. Understood?"

Staring at her with a glint of aggression coming into his eyes at her presumptuous and oh-so-condescending nature, the corners of his lips curled into a knowing smile as he said, "Is that so?"

"Yes," she said. "It is."

"Only one problem with that, Bones," he told her with a rigid smile and tilt of his head.

"Oh?" she asked.

"Yeah," he nodded with a snort. "I don't work for you, okay? And I'm not one of your little squinterns that you can boss around here just because you've got me browbeat into thinking I have to do every little thing you say just so I can get an 'A' in your class. Alright? So you better be careful there."

"Are you warning me, Booth?" she asked, narrowing her eyes in suspicion at the boldness of his statement.

"Not at all," he said, his tone of voice softening as he grinned at her response. "I'm just letting you know that I know that you know...you know, that I know that you want this. You can say otherwise, but you want me. And I fuckin' know it." He winked at her and shrugged. "That's all, Bones."

"Oh, I have no problem admitting that," Brennan nodded at him. "I have no problem admitting that I very much want to have sex right now. Just don't...read too much into that point, Booth. Because—" _It's just sex. That's all it is. Nothing more. _"It's just sex," she finally muttered, but unable to help herself, she looked away as she said it and her voice trailed off.

Although she didn't see it, Booth was looking directly at her for a few heavy seconds. He felt his gut clench, disappointed and more than a little angry at her continued reticence. _Why can't you just admit that there's something here, Bones? What's so wrong with admitting that? Because I know you know it. Maybe you don't know what to call it, or what to do with it, but it's there. You know it. I know it. Admit it. Come on, Bones._ "Alright, so are you just planning on using me like any old stiff dick that's handy, or is there some particular reason that you want _me_ to fuck you? I mean, why am I so lucky—assuming, purely for the sake of argument here Bones, that I _am _gonna get lucky here?"

She chuckled at him in response. "We're partners, Booth," she let her voice fall away to a whisper a she ran her hands up the muscular planes of his abdomen. "So, why don't we just say...how have you put it before? Let's just say it's a partners thing, I believe."

"So it's just because we work together, Bones?" he asked, barely suppressing another snort. "Is this the kind of thing you do with male colleagues a lot?" Booth felt another jolt of desire and punctuated his question with another thrust of his hip. He brought his hand once more to the thin and rather simplistic waistband of her panties and dipped his fingers inside to touch her center and stroked her damp curls, drawing his forefingers along the soft, rounded cleft between her folds. But, he made no attempt to part them. "You let Hodgins touch you like this? Did you let Zach touch you this way? Because you used to work pretty closely with him."

The thought of either of those men touching her this way, as hilarious as the ludicrous idea sounded, made him laugh, but at a deeper level, it disgusted him.

"While geniuses, they're lab rats like me, Booth," Brennan said with a tilt of her head as she used her fingers to brush over the warmth of his skin. "I've found it's always been more preferable to not fuck someone you share an office with—" She paused for a crucial second as a person she'd not thought of in some time came into her head.

_Booth's not the only man I've ever fucked. He's not...he's not special. Hell, he's not even the first FBI agent I've ever had sex with...we're here now and this doesn't have anything to do with work. What we do out there stays out there and what we do in here stays in here. It's separate and neat and controllable. As long as it stay separate, things'll be fine. I've done that before. I mean, I controlled my relationship with Sully just fine until he went up and left me. I can do the same thing with Booth_—_he, no __we__ just need to make certain that we both understand that part. _

Raising her eyes to meet his, she blinked prettily as she then added in a very rough voice, "That's why I only let my FBI partners touch me like this..." She let her voice trail off for a few seconds, giving him a playful smile as her fingertip came up and gently drew a circle around one of his tight nipples. However, she made certain that their eyes were purposely locked directly on one another as she spoke her next words. "And, just in case you're wondering, yes, for your information—Sully did." She punctuated her last words with a flick of her fingertips as she tweaked his nipple.

Booth's jaw hardened at the mention of his colleague, and even in his narcotic fog, he felt the bile rise in his throat at the thought of him sailing away on the boat he named for her. "Why the fuck would you bring him up right now, Bones?" he growled at her as he let his fingers fall away from her. "Why?"

As she felt the tensing of his body, and considered his angry words, for a few seconds, another wave of panic spiked for her. _Oh, God, what am I doing here? This isn't_— She forced herself to remain calm as she didn't break eye contact with Booth. _Get a grip, Brennan. If this isn't such a big deal, why act like it is? Stop it. If he's angry about Sully for some inane reason, that's his problem_—_not yours._

Not knowing if he picked up on her momentarily lapse in bravado, Brennan told him, "Hey, I'm not the one who started bringing up the names of guys that I might or might not have let touch me like this, Booth. As I recall, that was all you."

Booth scowled. "I don't want to talk about Sully, alright?"

"Hmmmm," Brennan said with a slight shrug. _Wow...that certainly was a strong reaction, all things considered. He's not...he's not still bothered about what happened between Sully and I, is he? I mean, that was over a year ago_—_more than a year ago. But, if he's not...what else explains __that__ strong a reaction...unless. No, wait_—_he's not...jealous, is he? Really? Why? _Brennan stopped for a few seconds and at the end of it she could only come up with one explanation. _Was he jealous because he felt insecure in comparison to Sully for some reason? Is that it?_ "Why? What, you aren't feeling a bit...insecure there, for some reason, are you, Booth?"

He narrowed his eyes and leveled a hard stare at her.

"Insecure?" he coughed. "Me? Hardly. I just don't want to talk about Sully. I'm done with that idiot loser, okay, Bones? Done, as in, put a fork in it, it's done. He's done. It's done. I'm done. Done. D-o-n-e. Done."

"I thought Sully was your friend, Booth," Brennan said, a bit of confusion coming into her voice. _Why is he having such a strong reaction here?_ "Do you always talk about your friends like that?"

"He _was _my friend," Booth admitted, his voice still a rough growl. "But then, after what he did—no, I'm not gonna..." He huffed and shook his head. "Look, I don't want to talk about Sully."

"You know," she began, curious to know why he as reacting in the way he was at the mere mention of his friend and her ex-lover. _Is it because he feels inadequate about something? Maybe because...well, he didn't play in that league that Sully played in, so maybe now that he's playing hockey, he regrets having missed the chance for competition? Is that it?_ "I've always wondered why...if you said that you were the one who played basketball in college...why did you never play on the basketball team with the other federal agents when Sully was here? It wasn't because you felt...inferior about something now, was it?"

"Hardly," Booth snickered. "I don't feel insecure about shit, Bones. Alright? And I sure as hell never felt insecure about anything to do with Sully." _I could've kicked his ass, _he thought. _Maybe I should've. _"I play hockey. That's what I do. That's what I have time for, you know, so that's what I do, Bones. I don't know what else you're trying to insinuate here, but—"

"I just think it's interesting that you were one of the only active male agents out of the DC field office who's under the age of forty that didn't play on that league," Brennan said. _Come on, Booth. What is it? _ "I mean, you say you love sports...and I think it's just a bit too coincidental that you're using that lack of time thing as you're excuse there, Booth—particularly since you're the one who's always telling me that you always have time for any sport...from hockey to bowling, and everything in between, hmmm?"

Booth rolled his eyes. "I can't believe we're even talking about this," he grumbled. "This is a complete waste of time...especially when we were doing what we were just doing."

"Why?" Brennan said, her voice open and devoid of sarcasm. _I'm trying to understand you, Booth_, Brennan thought, momentarily setting aside her own vow to keep things simple without even realizing she was doing it. _What's bothering you about this so much?_ "It's an important point, I think since you're obviously having such a strong reaction about it."

"I'm not—"

"Yes, yes you are," Brennan told him. "Now, are you going to tell me what's really gotten you so upset? And, just as a slight incentive, I suggest you be honest with me... especially if you want to get back to what we were doing before or not, Booth."

"No," he grunted. _Fuck. _ "This is stupid. I don't want to talk about Sully, or the stupid basketball league, or any of that stupid crap."

_You're not getting off that easy...either metaphorically or literally. _"You may not want to talk about it, but you are going to," she told him. He stared at her, his eyes blazing with strong emotions, but Brennan refused to back down. "Come on, now. Don't be like that. We're just waiting on you, Booth," Brennan said gently.

He stared at her for a moment. "Are you really going to make me do this?"

"If you want to get back to doing what we were doing...it's up to you," Brennan told him.

"Fine," he grumbled. "But, if you must know, I don't want to have anything to do with that league. The guy that runs it, he's a field agent like me, and we worked together in the Newark field office when I had just gotten out of Quantico, before I transferred to D.C. He's in the Organized Crime section, and he's a real asshole. We don't get along, and frankly, I don't want to have anything to do with any friggin' league he runs. So that's why I don't play, alright? That's all." He shook his head and rolled his eyes again. "I mean, shit."

"Sully never had any problems with him," Brennan remarked as she tried to remember what he'd told her of the league...which wasn't much considering the fact that they'd started sleeping together shortly after she saw him play his first game. "He was quite pleased with playing in that league, as I recall."

_I can't fucking believe it, _he thought as he listened to her, his mouth closed and his teeth gritted as he tried to control his mounting frustration. _Sully was a fucking tool to let her go, because she's a hundred times better woman than he deserved_—_a thousand times, even. Him and all that free-spirit-always-looking-for-something-else-bullshit. What a fucking tool. And he's an even bigger fucking tool to have ever thought he was gonna get her to sail away with him, be his own personal little yacht wench, his first mate. Right, like she'd ever walk away from her science, the Jeffersonian, and us—our partnership, me and her. Me. She wouldn't do that. Because she wouldn't leave me—she just wouldn't. _Booth knit his brows low over his eyes and smoldered just thinking about her and Sully, and the way she talked about him, even still. _But...wait. You know what? Fuck this. I-I...don't want to talk about Sully. He's gone. I'm here. She's with me. She stayed with me. His loss was my gain. I won, and he's gone. That's it. It's done, and he's outta here...I mean, don't get me wrong, he's a good guy, but still_—_what an asshole he was when he let her go. He did that...but I'm not gonna. I won't make that same mistake_—_no way, no how._

"Sully never watched that guy bungle the handling of an undercover asset halfway through an operation to shut down the Flacco family's control of the recycling business in Elizabeth, New Jersey," he retorted. "If all you knew of that fuckwad was how he ran a basketball league, you might not know any better." He tilted his head and slowly shook his head. "But why are we talking about this? This is hardly my idea of foreplay, Bones. It's kinda bringing me down and _definitely _killing the mood."

"You know what," Brennan said, seizing on the focus of his words as she felt some of the pull of the physicality that had been dominating her for most of the evening finally starting to lessen. As reason started to reassert itself, she shook her head as a single thought echoed in her mind. _He's right. Why the fuck are you talking about Sully?_ _Unless_— Brennan felt a lump of emotion coil in her throat. _Fuck_, she mentally groaned. _Fuck...I'm talking about Sully because_—_because why? Unless...unless I'm using Sully to push him away. Is that it? Oh, fuck_—_if I'm trying to push him away, that only means one thing. Oh, shit. Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Shit. _She paused as she took a deep breath. _Oh, God...how did this_—_how did this happen? It's not_—_it's not supposed to be like this, but somehow it is. He's...I'm not_—_this is supposed to be simple. It's supposed to be simple and controllable and suddenly it's not. Fuck! Oh, God, I...this isn't what it's supposed to be. I_— She swallowed it quickly as she nodded at him. "You're right." She took a step back from him, pushing away the part of her body that cried out from a lack of contact. "You're right, Booth. There's no reason to be talking about this unless—" Her voice quietly trailed off.

"Unless what, Bones?' he asked gently, his eyes narrowing slightly as he realized there was something there that she didn't want to touch. "What?"

"Nothing," Brennan said with a shake of her head. "It's nothing."

"Bones—" Booth's jaw jutted out as he leaned closer. "What is it? There's no reason to talk about this unless _what?_"

"No," she said, the panic she'd been battling off and on all night rearing its ugly head. "I...I was wrong."

"Wait...so you _don't _want to have sex?" He shook his head and, after brief moment of hesitation, shrugged. "That's too bad," he said. "Because you'd really be missing out." _And so would I, _he added silently, a glum at the idea that they wouldn't be having sex.

"Perhaps," she nodded at him. "But, this...this was a very bad idea." She turned away from him, her hands starting to shake a bit as her eyes darted across the room to find her clothing.

"No," he said, reaching for her with his casted hand. "Come on. Listen..."

"No—" she interrupted him. "You're right. There's no logical reason to be discussing one of my past lovers if I'm here with you. Ergo—"

"Ergo," he interrupted her, pulling her towards him with his injured hand. "Ergo, let's just, you know, not think about anyone else and just be ourselves. You and me, together. Nobody else."

"Oh, no," she said with a shake of her head. "No, no, no. This...I don't know what this is...but, whatever it is, Sully came up for a reason. And, you know what, Booth? I haven't thought about him for any significant period of time for more than a year. So, that fact tells me that if the first time I _do _think about him is right when you're looking at me like that, and touching me like you were touching me, then maybe I'm just making the same damn mistake again. I'm not doing that, Booth. I'm not. I went down that metaphorical road once before, and I'm not doing it again."

"Stop it," he told her, a hard edge coming into his voice. _Sully almost fucked it up for us once. I'm not letting that numbnut do it to me again_. "Stop it right now. This—this thing we have, what we are—it doesn't have anything to do with Sully and what happened between you two."

"That's true," she admitted slowly. "But, I can't ignore the fact that we haven't talked about him in how long until the night when we're just about to have sex? That has to mean something, doesn't it, Booth?"

"Sure, it does," he told her. "But, it's not what you think...and you know that." _Don't do this. Don't do this, Bones._

"But—"

"No," he said with a shake of his head. "Stop it, Bones. If Sully was all that and a fucking bag of chips, Bones, why did you let him sail away? Huh?" He pursed his lips and grunted at the memory. "Bullshit—either he was nothing fucking special, or there's something special about me. But you let him sail away, remember?"

"I didn't do anything to him," Brennan said, her brow furrowing at Booth's words. "Sully made his choice..._his _choice, Booth. That had nothing to do with me."

"Right," Booth muttered with a shake of his head, his teeth gritted as the resentment simmered low in his belly.

"You know," she said, pulling a step away from him. _I'm not doing this. And, if you're going to make me do it, I'll do whatever I have to do to get out of here, Booth._ "I think you're just threatened by him," she said, knowing that he'd be unable to resist the bait she laid out for him.

Booth grunted dismissively. "If he was so fucking awesome—in the sack or otherwise—you wouldn't have let him go," he told her. "Either you'd have gone away with him, or convinced him to stay." He sighed thankfully that neither had, in fact, happened. _So come on, _he blinked. _Give this a chance. Let go of all that other stuff, Bones._

"Like I said," she told him with a shake of his head. "It was his choice to go or stay—not mine."

"But it was your choice to not join him. Right? And so you're here with me tonight. Sully's off in some goddamn place now, doing God only knows what. But I'm here, with you. And you're here with me."

Booth took a breath and looked at her. He thought about the afternoon he saw her, standing on the dock at the marina as Sully unfastened his sailboat, _Temperance_, from its moorings and eased away from the slip. _He left you behind, Bones. But I would never leave you. I never have, and I never will. You know that, right? You know I'd never leave you behind. You may be a bit odd, a little crazy and frustrating as hell sometimes, but hey—so am I, right? But you mean the world to me, and I'd never leave you behind. Don't you understand that? _

He narrowed his eyes. "So, why _is _that, Bones? Enlighten me."

"No," Brennan responded, something almost catching in her throat as she uttered the single word. "That's not a part of the deal, Booth. Those aren't my terms—"

"Oh," he smirked. "So, we're back to terms again? Because I'm starting to get a bit dizzy from the mixed signals you're throwing at me here, Bones."

"I don't know..." she said, shaking her head furiously. "I...don't mean to be giving you mixed signals. I just...I-I—just stop it," she told him, her tone faltering as she started to feel overwhelmed by the swirling conflation of emotional and physical sensations that he was eliciting in her. "You're...you're confusing me."

Booth quirked an eyebrow and nibbled the inside of his lip to suppress a smile. "I'm the one that's half-stoned on the good stuff here, Bones. Why are _you_ confused?"

"I just am, okay?" she said with a shake of her head. "I...this was supposed to be simple, Booth. Simple and easy and now it's not. We're talking about ex-lovers and God...I'm half-naked in your bedroom, and you're touching me like that, and I've never felt like this before, and all I want is to keep feeling like this, but I also feel like I don't have any control over this...and we don't do things like this..." her voice trailed off to a bear whisper before she looked up and asked weakly. "Do we?"

"Not 'til now," he admitted. "But maybe we should. We're amazing together in every other way, huh? I know, I just _know _we'd be amazing together, you know. Me, with you, inside of you—it'll be amazing. I'm sure of it. Not just now, but every time, Bones. Don't you know that?"

"I-I..."

"Bones," he pleaded.

"I can't," she said with a shake of her head, trying to suddenly move around him. "I thought I could...God, I thought I could, and I did, but I can't...and now...this is not how things were supposed to be. God—" she stopped and then her eyes burned brightly as she raised her gaze to meet his. "It was supposed to be simple. You, me, here, now. That was it. There wasn't supposed to be any of this other stuff...Sully and God, Booth. I...I have to go."

He thought about the line—the line he'd drawn that he had refused to let them cross. It didn't make any sense. It hadn't made any sense for a long time—hell, if it ever had _What the fuck was I thinking? _he asked himself. "No," he said, grabbing her arm with his good hand, closing his fingers around her slender arm with a firm but not rough grasp. "Bones, we have never been 'just partners,' whatever the hell that means. We've always been more than that—more than partners and more than friends. You know that, don't you, Bones? The bond we share, the way we work together, the way we've become woven into each others' lives. It was never 'just' anything. And this—what we did earlier, and what we'll do tonight—will never be 'just' sex."

"But—"

"Look, alright? You're thinking too much, Bones," he said again. "It's only not simple because you're making it complicated. I want you, alright? And I know you want me. We're awesome together, you and me, Bones. It'll be awesome, so just—please, stop. Stay. Please—please. I want you to stay." He looked at her, his dark eyes softening as he smiled gently. "Please."

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><p><strong>AN:**

_Our boy Booth is pulling out all the stops. Will Brennan stay? If not, Pt V will be very, very short. And, if you know nothing else at this point, you know (1) _**Lesera128**_ and _**dharmamonkey**_ are incapable of writing anything short when they collaborate, and (2) we always end these tales with B&B together. So do the math, people._

_But we don't work for free. Well, actually…we do…but, hey, we expect to see some reviews before we post the piece-de-resistance, Pt V. _

_Okay, folks, let's be perfectly clear: we live for reader reviews. __We love to hear what people think of our work. We get very nervous when all we hear are crickets. But when people respond to our work, we are emboldened to keep writing._

_Simply put, here's the math: More reviews = happier writers = quicker updates._

_You know what to do, people. Click that little review button down there._

_Yep, right down there._

_That's the one._


	17. 17—Pulling the Goalie, Pt V

**A Very Bad Idea**

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><p><strong>By:<strong> dharmamonkey & Lesera128  
><strong>Rated: <strong>M  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>Ummm, nope, we still don't own anything. We have, however, apparently become squatters in the sandbox that we crashed... so, umm... yeah. So there we go.

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><p><strong>AN**: _Please stay tuned for an important message from one of our sponsors..._

_We at the _**Dharmasera ****Inc. **_Home Office are pleased to bring you this message from CEO and co-founder, _**Lesera128**:

_Ladies and gentlemen, greetings. While I'm a bit more enigmatic than my more loquacious and well-known, Boothspam-tweeting compatriot _**dharmamonkey**_, I do like to chime in every so often with some deep thoughts in the motif of Jack Handy. _

_First, I want to acknowledge all those readers who have been kind enough to share their thoughts and opinions with us over the course of this story and others. _

_Second, I would like to take this opportunity to share one of my favorite quotes by the oft quoted but rarely understood Friedrich Nietzche: "One's own self is well hidden from one's own self; of all mines of treasure, one's own is the last to be dug up." The reason I share this quote is to remind people that this series_—_"A Very Bad Idea"_—_is a bit of a grab bag...sometimes the scenarios are fun and/or shallow (Scenarios 1 & 3...sometimes they aren't (Scenarios 2 & 4). In the latter scenarios, of which "Pulling the Goalie" turned out to be a kind, they are more complicated since Booth and Brennan as characters are deconstructed, twisted, stretched, and forced to grow in new ways before we're done with them in those pieces. In that context, one must always keep in mind at what stage in their development that the characterizations are when we are jumping into the sandbox in them for the purposes of the scenario/story. _

_In "Goalie," we are facing an early season 4 Booth and Brennan. I've counseled this before to our readers, and I no doubt will again, but...season 4 B&B are NOT the B&B of later seasons...especially the B&B on screen now (mid-season 7). If you, the dear reader, judge them as such, you will be disappointed at least and aggravated at worst. Perspective is everything. The past cannot be ignored. For both characters, who and what they were, what they did, and who they came into contact with is a part of understanding that characterization of the totality of who they are in the story. If that's something that unsettles you, I wish you happy fic hunting. And, now, I shall end this loquacious verbiage and wish you a fond farewell. Until next time when we see you in the wilds of a national forest in Florida, we now will return you to your regular monkey programing. _

_Goodnight and good luck._

**Unf Alert****: **_This is_** dharmamonkey **_here. What follows is pretty dang unf, even on the Dharmasera scale of unfness. If you're up for it, great. Otherwise, turn back now. So, please prepare yourself for a massive dose of epic hotness. (Did that sound cocky? I guess it did, huh? Cocky belt buckle sold separately.)_

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><p><strong>IV. Pulling the Goalie, Part V<strong>

**Pertinent Details on Scenario #4****: **Set at the beginning of episode 4x13: "Fire in the Ice."

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><p>Brennan looked at Booth, afraid of leaving, but—perhaps—even more afraid of staying.<p>

"Why..." the word fell away on her tongue as soon as she had uttered it. Pursing her lips into a thin line, she shook her head and looked away at a point on the wall that was just over his shoulder falling immediately silent.

"Because I want you to stay," he said. "Because I want you to be with me tonight. Not just...look, not just because I want you for the sex. I mean, I want you, Bones, but it's more than just wanting you. I want _you._" He paused, smiling briefly before his expression shifted to one of wide-eyed vulnerability. "I want you to stay—because, after all that's gone on tonight, after everything we've done, I don't want you to go away and leave me alone. Please. I don't want to watch you walk out that door, okay? I want you here, with me, tonight. I asked you once, and you said you stay. I still mean it, Bones. I want you here with me, okay?"

"But, why?" she asked. "In this particular context, I'm just not that special, Booth. You could just as easily be with a dozen other females if you don't want to be alone."

"No," he said firmly, his brow furrowed as he shook his head. "No, because none of them would be you. You're the one I want. I don't want just any woman, alright? I want _you. _And I don't want you to want me just because I'm any guy with a stiff dick who turns you on, right? I want you to want me because I'm _me._" He paused, and hesitated for a moment, then added, "Because I think that's why you're here. Isn't it?"

"Initially?" she said. "Truthfully...I honestly came here tonight to do what the doctor stipulated you should have done to you in your discharge paperwork. I didn't walk up here expecting a simple sponge bath for cleanliness' sake to turn into...well, what it did."

"But it did, didn't it?" he asked her, a crooked grin gaping in the corner of his mouth. "Didn't it? Why was that, huh?"

"You tell me, Booth," she said, tilting her head to look at him. "You're the one who became aroused and started all of this...and now, everything's happened so fast."

He shrugged slightly as he gave her a heartfelt smile. "When you touched me like that, it turned me on, Bones," he said. "I-I...touching you...and having you touch me like that—it's like a jolt of electricity, Bones. And, I gotta be honest here—for me? It's been like that for a long time...and, it's not the drugs, you know?" He looked at her, loosening his hold on her arm as he gave her arm one last squeeze before letting go entirely. "I—well, when you touch me, or even just _look _at me sometimes, it makes me burn inside for you. It was like that time in the hospital, when I brought Russ there to see his stepdaughter before taking him in, and you kissed me on the cheek. I nearly fell over. _You _do that to me. Don't you know that by now? I mean, come on—no other woman does that, with just a little kiss on the cheek. You _are _special. You've _always _been special to me, Bones. That's why I want you to stay."

"Is that..." her voice got small again, but after taking a deep breath, she plowed forward. "Is that why you got jealous earlier? When I brought up Sully?" She looked up and met his eyes with her own pointed gaze. "Is it?"

Booth's nostrils flared at the mention of Sully. "Yes," he said quietly, his tone raw, containing as it did just a bit of the hurt that he felt every time of what might've happened the day he went to the dock expecting to see her sailing away from everything—their work, their partnership...him. "He nearly took you away from me. I wake up in a cold sweat some nights when in my dreams you've gone and sailed off with him. I don't want to lose you, Bones." He sighed. "You mean too damn much to me," he said, glancing out the window before turning back to meet her gaze. "You mean everything to me, Bones. I can't lose you."

"Why...why are you telling me this now?" she said in a voice that was no more than a whisper. Closing her eyes, she shook her head slowly. "I can't...what are you doing to me, Booth?"

"Bones," he said quietly. "You asked me to tell you why I reacted the way I did when you touched me. You wanted me to tell you why I want you to stay." He tilted his head and smiled faintly. "I told you. You asked me to tell you why these things happened, and I'm trying to tell you."

"Just because I wanted you to tell me?" she asked, opening her eyes wide. Her voice became smaller again as she said softly, "And, that's the only reason?"

"That's the only reason that matters," he whispered, unsure as the words left his mouth why he'd said them or what he even meant by them**, **but certain in the moments after he said it, that he had said the wrong thing.

"No," she said with a shake of her head. "The truth matters here, Booth. And...just as importantly as what I want to hear...what do you want to hear?" She again focused her eyes on his, giving him a questioning look.

"I told you the truth," he insisted. "You asked me a question, basically, and I answered it. And I answered it honestly. I want to hear you tell me the truth. Why did you..." He paused, wanting not to scare her away but knowing that they had probably long since passed the point of no return. "Why did you give me a blow job, Bones? That was definitely not in the ER doc's instructions."

"You know you're a very attractive male," she offered lamely. "And, you know I've always found you physically attractive."

"Hmm," he murmured. "Do you do that to every attractive male you find yourself alone with?"

"Well," she chuckled, laughing for the first time in quite a while. "To be honest, it's not a situation I've ever really found myself in before—"

"You give very good sponge baths," he grinned, latching onto her laughter with a hopeful feeling in his chest. "It was _very _nice, even before—well, you know." He gave her a wink as he let his word trail off.

"What?" she asked, something sparking in her eyes as she sensed his slight reluctance to speak.

Seeing the flicker in her eyes, he felt emboldened. "Well, before you took me into your mouth and gave me that absolutely mind-sucking blow job—which was the best I've ever had, by the way."

Brennan held his eyes for a minute as she saw the pleasure that shown in his eyes. "I believe you're exaggerating to bolster my confidence," she chuckled. "But, the sentiment behind your exaggeration is appreciated nonetheless. It was—" she paused and then looked up at him. "I enjoyed touching you...tasting you like that."

Booth felt his balls hitch and a tugging behind his navel as he hardened a little at her mentioning his taste and remembering what it felt like to have her swallow his load, right down to the very last drop. "I'm glad, Bones," he said with a waggle of his eyebrows.

She swallowed once as she caught his sight and saw him wink at her. Shaking her head slowly, she murmured, "God, what are you doing to me?"

"In the interests of full disclosure, Bones," he said with a laugh. "In hockey, this is the part where the coach tells his team to pull the goalie." He saw the nonplussed expression in her eyes as she cocked her head. "In hockey, when a team is losing at the end of the game, the coach will pull the goalie off the ice, and send in an extra player so they can have more men to hit the other team hard on offense. It's a high-risk move, but when you're desperate, it can pay off. So, I'm kinda pulling out all the stops and letting the Boothy charm flag fly in the hopes that you'll stay here with me." He looked at her expectantly. "Is it working?" he asked, taking a half-step closer and snaking his hand around her hip as he leaned in, his hot breath falling on her temple. "Is it?"

"You want me to stay?" she asked, almost forgetting the question as she felt his moist whisper fall on her soft skin.

"God, yes," he whispered. "That's what I've been trying to tell you since you got here, so yes. Please stay. Please."

She stopped for a second and then looked up at his with wide eyes. "And...if we do...what then?" she breathed, almost half persuaded as it was in that moment. "Are we going to..have sex, Booth? That is...if you want to? Is that what will happen if I stay?"

"I certainly hope so," he chuckled. "I promise to make it worth your while if you stay. And you know me, I always deliver on my promises. I'm a man of my word."

"I know that," she nodded. "But...is that all? Is that all I'm staying for? Just another fuck?"

"No," he said, cringing briefly at the suggestion. "I want you to stay, spend the night with me, and in the morning, we'll have a nice breakfast—though I might need a little help cooking since my right hand's my pancake-flipping arm."

"Hmmmm," she asked, arching her eyebrow. "And, here I was thinking that you'd make another pass at me with some type of nurse fantasy that I was almost positive you had."

"Oh, well," he admitted with a grin. "I have fantasies, Bones, but, actually, the nurse one wasn't really on the list. I'm not really into the whole hospital thing, to be honest. Now, teachers, librarians, stern college lecturers—hell, even Academy instructors...but, _heh_, well, that's another story."

"Oh, so this is your way of telling me that you don't want to play doctor?" she laughed.

"Hmmm." He looked up and away, considering her question before bringing his eyes back level with hers. "Yeah, basically. The whole doctor/nurse fantasy thing doesn't really do it for me. I've kinda spent enough time in hospitals over the years that the shine on that kind of thing came off a long time ago."

"Even if I'm the doctor?" she dared to ask, her breath catching in her throat as she spoke.

"You want to play doctor to my patient, Bones?" he croaked. "I mean, I can be flexible, you know, if that's...umm...you know, something you're into."

In that moment, it was important for her she reached out and brought her hand to cup his jaw. "Whatever you want," she said with a sultry voice that caressed him just as her hand did. "I-I...I care about you a tremendous amount, Booth." She stopped and waited until their eyes met before she added, "You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I mean, uhhhh—" He raised his eyebrows as his mind finally caught up with the realization of what she had just confessed. "Really?"

"You're very important to me," she nodded earnestly. "I...it's important to me that you know that—especially if I'm going to stay."

Booth felt a surge of warmth spread through his chest at hearing her words. "Oh, that's awesome," he said, wincing faintly at hearing how idiotic his response was to what he knew, somewhere in the less-drugged recesses of his mind, was really a huge emotional admission on her part. "That's great, Bones. I'd love to have you stay."

"Just because I'm me?" she asked with a small smile.

"Yes," he said. "Because you're you. And because you're special—really special to me."

"So, to sum up...I'm here...you're here...we're here, and it's special—to both of us?" she asked, the smile that was on her lips growing larger as each second passed.

He narrowed his eyes with a smile and feigned a thoughtful expression. "Hmmm," he murmured, nearly laughing. "Yeah, that's about the size of it."

"So, then I just have one more question for you, Booth—if this is so special...are we going to do something about that specialness that involves any more one-on-one touching any time soon, or what?" she asked, a teasing tone growing more pronounced as she continued to speak and her confidence grew.

"Definitely," he whispered. "As in, right now." He hooked his thumb in the waistband of her panties and tugged, sliding them off one hip before sliding his fingers across her belly, then yanking them down the other hip. "_Mmmmm_," he murmured, pulling them over the round of her hip and down to her thighs, revealing a mass of dark curls that glistened in the warm red glow of the neon light that shone through his window. "Yeah, very nice."

Booth raised his good hand to the strap of her camisole, but Brennan used her forearm to swat it away gently.

"No," she said with a shake of her head in a small tone of voice as she felt a bit of panic come into her voice. "I...just, not that...okay?"

"'No' what?" He looked at her, his brows knit low over his eyes as he tried to figure out why she had just pushed him away like that. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Stays on," she said simply. "It stays on."

"Why?" he asked, pouting his lips a little before it dawned on him, slower than usual perhaps because of the opiate cloud that had not yet completely faded from his mind. His heart sank a little at seeing and hearing her insecurity. _Oh, God, Bones, can't you see_—_?_

"Because," she said, raising her eyes to meet his. _I'm trying here, Booth. I really am...but, I can only do so much, go so far at one time...even for you, as much as I may want to_—_I can only do so much. _"Because, I-I...I said so."

For a moment, he hesitated, his eyes narrowing as he tried to inventory mentally what had happened in the preceding minutes before finally deciding to letting her lead, nudging her gently while recognizing that she was not as full of confidence and bravado as she sometimes seemed to possess.

"Suit yourself," he replied with a soft laugh. "But I really think you might like what my magic tongue can do to those magic tits of yours. Of course, it's up to you." He stuck his tongue out and wiggled it. "Because I really think you _want _to know what this hand and this tongue can do when unleashed on those tits of yours." _Admit it, Bones. You __want__ to feel me this way._ _And, I want to feel you. I'm so far gone, it's not even funny_..._and so are you, if you'd just admit it._

"You can touch me however you want," she graciously and generously told him. "But, the camisole stays on," she repeated with a strange look coming into her eyes. "After all, such a small hindrance should hardly be challenging to a man who claims to be as good as you've claimed you are at...well, touching me like this, right, Booth?"

Booth grinned and shook his head but said nothing. He took a half-step away and, reaching down, slid her panties down over her knees and watched them fall to the floor. Then, straightening up again, he coasted his palm up the outside of her thigh and across to once more thread his fingers through her curls. He grinned, licked his lips, but still said nothing, the only sound he made being a soft hum as he brought the back of his hand over the flat plane of her abdomen, his knuckles brushing across the upper fringe of her curls. With a feather-light touch, the back of his hand dusted over her navel as he looked up, finally bringing his eyes to meet hers. He leveled a hard stare into the pale, piercing depths of her eyes, then, with a faint smile, turning his hand over and palmed her belly. Another hum sounded from deep in his chest before, in a motion so swift it nearly took her by surprise, he slid his hand under her camisole and scraped his thumbnail across her nipple.

"Mmmmm," she moaned. "See? Told you—small hindrance."

"Yeah, right," Booth grunted. "You do have fucking fantastic tits. They feel even better than they look." He closed his hand around her breast and gave it a soft squeeze, uttering a low murmur as he felt the hard pebble of her nipple against his palm. "Hell yeah they do. _Mmmmph._"

"Aren't you glad I let you finally touch them?" she half-joked.

"_Heh_," he laughed, taking her nipple between his thumb and forefinger and pinching it. "Yeah." He rolled the firm nub between his fingertips and grinned, then pinched it again. "Aren't _you _glad you finally let me touch them?" he asked, smiling at the sound of her sucking in a breath. "I think you are."

"Booth?" she asked.

"Hmmmm?"

"Just...would you please shut up and just keep touching me now?" she said in a throaty whisper as he tapped the point of his fingernail against her flesh. "Please?"

Booth snickered as he cupped her breast in his hand and lowered his head, closing his teeth around her nipple through the fabric of her camisole. He gently rolled his jaw from side to side, dragging his teeth across her flesh as he did so. Smiling against the smooth black fabric, he hummed, then closed his lips over her pebbled nipple and gave a firm, wet suck.

"Oh!" she gasped.

"That's right," he told her, his breath vibrating against the damp fabric. "I can touch you like this, because this is mine."

Brennan, half-distracted as she was with the increasing hum of her impending orgasm, almost thought she'd imagined him saying it. Letting the thought fall away, she concentrated on his touch in that one moment.

He closed his teeth lightly over her nipple and chuckled, the hum of his voice carrying an almost electric charge as it passed from his lips through the fabric to her tender, sensitized skin. "You're mine," he whispered as the thought—and its significance—began to bounce around in the lazy, loping space of his mind. _You're mine, Bones. This thing, you don't share this with just anyone_—_you may have slept with other guys, but this thing we have here, no. You don't just share this with anyone. Only with me. Me. And, God willing, you'll never share it with anyone else ever again. _"Mine."

The second time he said it, this time Brennan battled with herself as her head snapped up, and she looked up at him with a slight look of surprise on her face.

"Booth?" she asked. "What did you just say?"

"Mine," he repeated, not really certain why Brennan was going him that strange look that she had on her face. "You're _mine_."

"Am I?" she asked, looking up and holding his gaze with her own.

"I want you," he said honestly. "I want you, and I think you want me. Do you?" He pulled away slightly, letting his good hand come up to cup her jaw gently. "Do you?"

"You know I want you," she moaned into his ear.

"Not just because we're fucking," he murmured. "Right, Bones? Admit it."

"I-I..." she hesitated for a split second, her voice catching in her throat.

As if to encourage her, he brought his lips back to her chest. "Mmmmm," he murmured, wiggled the point of his tongue over her nipple and then drew it back into his mouth for another suck. "Tell me," he coaxed her. "Come on. Please—tell me."

Digging her fingers into his scalp, she leaned her head back slightly into the wall and moaned at his touch. "Yes," she breathed, so quietly he almost couldn't hear her.

"Mine?" he asked. "Because I'm me?"

"Yes," she moaned again. "Because you're you."

"And because you're mine?" he pressed her again.

"Yes," she breathed. "Yours."

"Just mine," he reiterated.

"Just yours," she agreed in a barely audible whisper.

"That's right," he breathed into the valley between her breasts, tugging at the bottom hem of her camisole with his fingers. "Mine."

"_Yeeesss_," she told him in a husky voice. "Oh, yes."

"And because I'm yours," he whispered, raising his head as he rolled the fabric between his fingertips. "You know that, right?" he said with an easy smile. "Only yours."

"Really?" she asked, a slight waver in her voice.

"Yeah," he replied, angling his head as he looked deep into her gray eyes. "Always have been, Bones."

"I want to believe that," she whispered. "I swear I do."

"It's true," he said, his voice low and his eyes soft as he blinked at her. "Why..." He raised his chin and pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Why don't you believe it, then?"

"A part of me does," she told him. "I just...a part of me can't help but feel unsure."

"You know," he said. "You know that I'm different, right? That's why you've stuck with me all these years, right, Bones? Why didn't you, you know, just walk at some point? Surely I've been a big enough pain in the ass from time to time to merit you dropping me and moving on to something else." _To someone else. _ He grinned, unwilling to give her any examples of what he considered his least proud moments. "But you didn't—so the question is why?"

Brennan considered his words and then said, almost as if it were an automatic response, "Because we're partners."

"And what does that mean to you, Bones?" he asked. "I mean, you and me—being partners?" He quirked an eyebrow and waited to see what she would say.

"It used to mean one thing," she said with a bit of a hesitant tone in her voice. "But, now—"

"And now?" he pressed her, gently but with a noticeable firmness in his voice. "Tell me. What's changed?"

Her eyes shot up at him and blazed a bit with a look of incredulity in them. "After what's happened tonight, how can you have to ask me that?"

"Well," he laughed softly. "Aside from the fact that we crossed that line, something else has changed, hasn't it?" He narrowed his eyes and looked intently into hers. "Between _us, _not just—not just the physical thing, right?"

She shivered slightly as she looked away from him. "Booth—"

"Come on, Bones," he whispered.

"Why?" she breathed. "Why are you making me do this?"

He took a breath and rolled his lips between his teeth pensively. "Because I wanna make sure we're on the same page here, Bones, before—"

"I'm doing the best I can," she said, finally voicing her earlier thoughts with an edge of panicked frustration creeping into her voice. "Don't you know that?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "I know, Bones. Just—I want you to know, I guess, that I'm not unsure here. And I don't want you to feel unsure because you think, somehow, that I'm gonna let you down. I've—I've never let you down before, have I?"

She lifted her gaze to meet his. "No," she told him quietly. "You haven't. I just—I feel like I've stretched as far as I can tonight...I...this is a lot for me to deal with, Booth—in so many ways. You have _no _idea—"

"I do," he insisted. "I know. I know this is kinda a lot to process." _Maybe it'd be a lot for me to process if I had my shit completely together here, but_—_fuck. _"You trust me, don't you? Right?"

"Of course," she said with a slight sigh. "But, you already know that."

"I do, Bones." Booth swallowed, then took a breath. "Hey," he whispered, reaching for her arm. "The chips are down, and we've laid our cards on the table, Bones. I'm ready to go all in here—are you?"

"I-I..." her words trailed off as an earlier thought echoed in her mind. _How far is he willing to take this_—_that's what I wanted to know, wasn't it? Well_..._there's the answer, I think. _

"All or nothing here, Bones," he said. "I'm all in."

"I'm scared," she said in a pinched voice.

"Don't be," he whispered, leaning his head in so that their foreheads nearly touched. "I've never let you down, Bones. Well—just—look, if you trust me, and you believe in me, and you want me, then let's do this thing. Let's give it a shot, alright?"

As she considered his words, a sudden epiphany blossomed in her mind. _It's a moot point, isn't it? The choice...I already made my choice_—"I already made my choice, didn't I? When I stayed?"

"Yeah," he said, his voice bright with a smile. "You did. So we just have to do the easy stuff, now, like I said, right?" He paused and repeated his earlier words. "All the way, remember?"

Nodding, as she felt him press into her, she whispered, "All the way."

"All the way," his whispered back. With a soft, unintelligible murmur, he bent his head down again and, his mouth gaping open slightly, brushed his lower lip across her collarbone, his breath warming the silky skin of her décolletage. "Mmmm?" A wicked grin slowly broke across his face as he pulled away and looked up. "You like that?"

"Mmmm," she murmured in reply. "Yes..of course."

"So, which do you like more?" He couldn't help himself as the words suddenly tumbled out of his mouth. "I really want to know, Bones—which did you like better? Having your tits sucked...or sucking me off?" His eye twitched as he felt himself harden even more the moment the words left his mouth.

"That's a difficult question to answer, Booth," she admitted with a pleased sigh. "One was pleasing because I was able to give you pleasure while the other was satisfying because of what you were able to do for me."

"Hmmm—" He considered her words. "Good point."

"I don't know how to answer it," she finally said. "How...what would you say?"

"I liked being touched by you," he told her. "But I like touching you, too, Bones." _And I sure as hell hope I'm not gonna be forced to make a choice between the two here, because I'm not sure_—_aw, hell...fuck_—_I know exactly what I would choose. Touching you. Yep. Right now, that's all I wanna do is touch you. _

He closed his fingers around the edge of the fabric and pulled it up, grinning as he saw her bare, flat belly. "Mmmmmm," he murmured, toying with the fabric as he looked up at her and met her eyes with the unspoken question shining clear as he gave the camisole a slight tug: _Can I?_

Understanding what he was asking, she nodded slowly with a particularly vulnerable smile. "Okay," she said. _Yes...because you're you. But, only because you're you_—_I wouldn't for anyone else. You know that, right? Only you_—"Yes..that is, if you want?"

"Yeah," he said, his voice low. "I want. I definitely want." Yanking the fabric up over her breasts, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he tried to adjust for the awkward feel of his arousal even as his one free hand was occupied. Hesitating for the briefest moment, she raised her arms and, sparing not a second, Booth gave the garment a final tug as her breasts bounced free and the black camisole fell carelessly to the ground at his feet. "Awesome." His eyes coasted over her now-nude body and his lips quivered briefly as he felt his skin flush at the sight of her. "Mmmm..." _Wow. _As much as a part of him wanted to devour her delicious body at that moment, he held back, a part of him—somewhere in a part of his mind that was no longer smothered by the influence of Vicodin—realizing that she had truly bared all of herself to him, and that he needed to, at least for a moment, savor and silently acknowledge what she'd done.

"Hmmm?" she asked, getting used to the coolness of the air as it drifted over her exposed skin.

Booth licked his lips at the sight of her now-bare breasts, both nipples hard from the combined affects of his touch and the cool air of his bedroom. "Now, isn't that better?"

"Ahhh, yes—I think so," she said, her breath catching in her throat as he scraped his fingers, claw-like, along the underside of her breast.

"You think so?" he laughed.

"I, ah...I-I...I'm not certain. But—"

"But what?" he pressed her. "Because, you know what I think?" he whispered. "I think you're doing entirely too much thinking here. We've already taken care of the big issues here, Bones. I want you, you want me...this might be something pretty special—that was all the hard stuff. So..._this_ part...this is the easy stuff. All we need to do is what feels good and see how special it is and enjoy it, huh?"

"Do what feels good?" she repeated, a bit of comprehension missing from her tone as she felt the sensations he was evoking crashing over her in wave after powerful wave.

"Yeah," he murmured. "Doesn't that feel good?" he asked as he touched her nipple again. She hissed in response making him smile again. "Yeah, because I thought it might."

"You were correct," she finally managed to admit. "Oh, fuck..." she said as she closed her eyes and let her head fall back a bit. "You're _definitely _right."

"Yeah," he nodded. "So, just go with that, Bones—what feels good...and what's special."

"Special?" she said, as if the words were strange as she let them roll off of the tip of her tongue.

"Yeah, Bones," he told her. "You, me, here...doing some of that stuff we were doing earlier—that was pretty special."

"I assume you mean the stuff we were doing earlier when I wasn't talking?" she asked with a small smile at the edges of her lips.

"Well," he chuckled. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't love it when you were giving me that blow job. It was pretty damn awesome. Fantastic, really."

"Oh?" she asked, tilting her head at him in askance. "So, you weren't just saying that you enjoyed it with the hopes of such flattery contributing to your seduction of me?"

He blinked a couple of times as his hazy mind caught up with her vocabulary. "Naaaw, Bones," he told her as he shook his head. "'Course not." He paused and then said, "But, you haven't said...did _you _like sucking me off?" he asked, unable to suppress a grin as his dark, twinkling eyes met hers once more.

"I've found that I think I very much enjoyed tasting you, Booth," she said. "I like how you feel and how you taste and that you trust me enough to share that with me."

"So, you liked having my hard cock in your mouth?" he said, his eyes darkening even further, his gentle tone almost at odds with the crassness of his words.

"Yes," she replied with a simple nod.

Giving her a toothy grin, he leaned in to ask in a conspiratorial tone, "And you liked swallowing my come?"

"Yes, of course," she said, squirming a little as she felt herself get even wetter at his words, which struck her momentarily as somewhat odd, until she realized—her powers of rational thought being impaired as they were by Booth's ministrations—that it was his dirty talk that was turning her on. "I've always, ahhh, preferred to swallow, that is—instead of spitting."

"And you want a chance to do it again, huh?" he asked. "Tell me."

Lifting her pale eyes to meet his, she nodded as her free hand traced over the bony swell of his hip, across his pubic bone, and came down between his legs as she gently cupped his balls. "Yes," she said again. "In my hand, in my mouth, inside me...I want it all, Booth. I want all of you." Furrowing her brow a little at her admission, she raised her chin and asked, "So, are you going to show me how good you can be or what, Booth? How special is this thing between us?"

"Very special," he muttered. "And, yeah...I'll show you good I can be," he said with a grunt, "one-handed or otherwise. I don't need two hands to drive you wild, now, do I?" He slid his middle finger in the cleft between her legs, separating her folds and groaning at feeling how slippery she was. "You fucking want me, don't ya, Bones?" He dragged his glistening finger over her clit and grinned as she threw her head back, gritting her teeth as she moaned at the jolt she felt at the contact. "You want me...don't you?" He slid his finger back down, pressing it into her as her mouth fell open in a long, guttural sigh. "Do ya? Huh?"

"You know I want you," she moaned into him.

"Yeah," he murmured as she massaged his balls in the palm of her hand. "Oh, fuck..." He jerked his hips against her hand as a long, heavy moan escaped his lips. He pressed his forefingers harder against her clit and drew tight, insistent circles over her hard nub. She sucked in a breath at the sensation as he paused momentarily, swiping his middle finger over her opening to gather more of her moisture before resuming his firm, rhythmic movements.

"Oh...ohh..._ohhhh_..." She arched her hips against his palm and released her grasp on him, letting her hands fall to her side as she felt herself surrender to the slow burn of her arousal, which coiled tighter and tighter in her belly with every circle his fingers drew against her flesh.

"You like that, huh?" he grinned, leaning in and brushing his lips against her temple as he whispered in her ear, pressing a couple of even harder circles against her before lightening his touch and slowing down.

"Booth," she groaned, her teeth gritted in mild frustration as his movements seemed to nearly still just as she had approached the very edge of release. "_Please—_"

"What do you want?" Booth asked her, punctuating his query with a firm roll of his thumb across her clit. "Tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it."

Brennan swallowed hard, squirming her hips as he pressed her against the wall. She closed her eyes, tilted her head back as she said, "I-I...I...want—"

"Yeah, Bones?" he breathed.

"I want you to fuck me, Booth," she groaned. "Fuck me."

Booth swore he nearly came right then and there, the moment he heard those three words fall from her lips—_fuck me, Booth._ He had heard her voice say those three words a hundred times in his fantasies, but he almost came undone at hearing them in his ear, the puff of her breath warm on his neck as his hand was covered with the slick moisture of her desire. "That's right," he mumbled as he slid his middle finger into her, curling his fingertip inside of her as his thumb rolled languid ovals over her clit. He stroked his fingertip over the spongy area along her front wall.

"Oh, God," she groaned, wobbling as her knees buckled briefly in response to his touch. "Oh, fuck, _Booooottthhh_..." She arched her back and inhaled sharply as her eyes clenched shut. "Oh, damn...oh..." Brennan felt her pussy pulse around his thick finger as it worked the most sensitive part of her interior, and she noted with a satisfied smile as her fluid dribbled out of her and dampened the top of her thigh. "Oh..._fuck!" _ The floor seemed to give way under her as the room around her spun, and she opened her eyes though her vision seemed to turn hazier with every one of his coordinated strokes. She felt herself spiral out of control, her breaths coming harder and faster as she felt the hemispheres of her mind tear apart each time his thumb rubbed a circle over her painfully-swollen clit and his middle finger strummed over the front of her inner wall. "Oh my God...fuck, fuck, fuck...ohhh..._mmmmmmphth_..."

"That's it," he said, his still-hazy mind registering that he had his finger buried knuckle-deep in his partner as he felt a drop of her moisture drip down his palm and run over the inside of his wrist. "Let go, Bones," he encouraged her, pressing a kiss against the silky skin in front of her ear. "Just let go..."

She reached for his hip and pulled him against her as she shattered, all of the coiling tension of her arousal falling away as she cried out with a long, high moan followed by a low grunt. A lazy smile broke across Booth's face as he felt the last of her tiny flutters fade, and he slid his finger out of her.

"That was pretty awesome, huh?" he said, bringing his hand up to his mouth with a grin. He took a breath, inhaling the smell of her arousal on his fingertips before opening his mouth and licking his fingers clean. "Oh, damn," he whispered. "You taste so fucking amazing, Bones." He held his middle finger in his mouth for second before pulling it out with a _pop. _He held his tongue still against the roof of his mouth. _I'm gonna definitely have to get a chance to savor that a bit more. _Taking a moment to glance at her eyes when he didn't hear a response, his grin widened when he saw a dazed look still had glazed over on face. "You alright there, huh?" he asked with a slight chuckle.

"Mmmmm," she finally managed in response to his query. "Yes, very much so."

Staring at her for a second, her fair skin now warm and flushed and because of what _he'd _done to her, Booth felt himself grow even harder. "God, you're so fucking beautiful—so fucking hot," he moaned. Letting his hand drop and fisting his cock as he groaned slightly. "You know that, don't you?"

"I-I..." she finally bit her lip and could only give him a sly and satisfied smile with a slight nod of her head.

"So fucking fuckable," he growled to himself with a half-laugh. "So completely fuckable. You always have been, you know? I've wanted to be inside you for so long—so long, you have no idea, Bones...and now I'm going to, Bones. I'm really going to...so the only other question is—are _you _ready for the second period?"

"What?" she asked hoarsely. "I don't—"

He raised the finger he'd just licked to her lip silencing her. He smiled as it took a moment for the meaning of his metaphor to dawn on her. Her already dark eyes then darkened even further as her tongue snuck out of her bruised lips and slowly wrapped around his index finger. She began to lick it at first, gently, as if it were a lollipop or a piece of hard candy. She swirled the tip of her tongue around the fleshy part of his finger, the one that had just fingered her into a completely wrenching orgasm that had more than slightly scrambled her brain. She purred slightly, letting the sound of the purr build in the back of her throat as she tasted herself on his finger. Moving her tongue to the other side of his finger, she crested it over the smooth surface of his nail before she began to suck on it in much the same way she'd sucked his cock earlier, draining him of every single drop. Feeling another steady hum beginning to build in her belly, she swallowed a smile as she raised her eyes to meet his.

Booth felt her tongue on his finger and he twisted his hips as he stood in place, groaning quietly as he squirmed against the erotic gesture. He felt a tingle in his fingertips but he resisted moving his finger at all as he winced at the sensation. He watched her mouth work his digit and was reminded of the way her talented mouth had worked over his now-twitching cock just a little while earlier.

"_Heh_," he laughed. "Actually, it's probably the third period really," he said, slightly nervous as she let his finger fall away from her mouth with a slight _pop_.

"_Mmmmmm_," she purred at him.

"Uhhh...first period...ya know, Bones...I think that ended with that brilliant sucking-off you gave me in the tub, and—"

"You seemed to have thoroughly enjoyed that particular act," Brennan murmured, knowing she was teasing him. "But...how do I know that you're not just saying that because you got to mouthfuck me, Booth?"

His hand fell to his side, and he groaned at hearing her use the term _mouthfuck,_ which he 'd never imagined her saying, not in all the hundreds of times he'd jerked off with her face in mind and her name on his lips. He closed his hand around his cock, slowly dragging the skin back and forth over the shaft as he listened to her.

"You did like that, huh?' she asked, teasing him slightly. "I bet you never thought I'd be the submissive type, right?"

"Oh, _fuck_," he moaned, his mouth hanging open as his breaths became ragged in anticipation. "No," he admitted. "I was sure—um, well, I always figured you'd be a little bossy. In a good way, but...ummmm...".

"Or," she said, continuing her earlier teasing of him. "Was it because you got to shoot that salty come of yours into my mouth?" she murmured with a sly look in her eye.

She grinned, tilting her head as she let her index finger raise to the tip of his chin.

"I've always wanted to taste you," she told him, almost in a confidentially hushed voice. "Ever since our first kiss. I wanted to see if you tasted as good as I thought you would. Do you know what you taste liked when I rolled your come around the tip of my tongue and let it coat the back of my mouth once you shot it into my mouth?"

"No," he choked. "What?"

"Not too salty," she said. "Sticky...but in a single word...wonderful." She looked up at him. "Smooth and slick and all you."

Booth's mouth gaped open, but not a word passed from his lips. In that moment, he could only utter a long, low sigh that rolled into a slow ursine growl as it rumbled from his chest.

"Or," she then said with an evil glint in her eyes. "Maybe it was it just about the orgasm? The release?" she asked as she stared straight into his eyes, now the color of two endless black holes that she'd often seen in three-dimensional representations at planetariums where no light could escape from there depths. "Was that it? Because you know why I had to leave the bathroom earlier, right?"

He shook his head. "No," he confessed. "I—well, I wasn't sure if you were gonna leave, you know. You walked out, and didn't really say anything, and I—"

"I needed a minute," she explained gently. "On one hand, it was just suddenly too much. You, me—what we'd just done. And...on the other hand, I wanted a moment to savor it," she told him. "The whole sensation of when I felt you thrust into me, how you shuddered right before you were ready to let go, how I felt your body tense and then press forward into me and release everything you had into me. I wanted to remember the sound you made when you cried out because of what I did to you." She stopped, smiling as she shook her head. "I have to admit I never thought you'd be the type who'd give a woman that type of power over you, Booth...and it was so sexy. So fucking sexy...I started to drip. I was so turned on—sexually aroused so that I was wet before, while it was going on, but in that minute, I started to drip, and I didn't want to forget. I wanted to remember everything...I wanted to savor it."

"Ohhh," Booth groaned a little. "I—I'm serious. I've never..." He paused, words failing him for a moment as he once again closed his eyes and tried to regather the scattered remnants of his focus. "I've never had a blow job like that before. It was incredible." He gulped. "I know it sounds, well—you know, kind of cliche, but after I came, I seriously thought I'd died and gone to heaven. I don't—I never thought it could feel that amazing." A smile crossed his face as a thought crept into his mind. "I know I'm still a little high and all, but I think that half my brainpower got sucked out along with my come back there. I can't believe I can still string a complete sentence together here, Bones, after the way you worked me over."

Smiling her secret smile at him—one that he'd never seen before this night, but one that he knew he'd sell his soul to have a chance to see again—Brennan then asked, in an almost shyly virginal way, "What was the best part, Booth?"

"Your lips," he mumbled, rolling his jaw from side to side as he took a breath. "Seeing your lips around my dick, sliding up and down when I pulled your head towards me."

"Mmmm," she said with another purr. "You liked it when you saw my head between your thighs, didn't you? You're never going to look the same way at me again, are you?"

"Never," he whispered in as honest an admission as he'd ever made in any confessional.

"Every time you see my hair color, you're always going to think of that, aren't you?" she said. "How it felt when you were thrusting into my mouth, holding my head to your dick with your hands?"

He swallowed, kneading his bottom lip between his teeth. "Oh, Jesus," he sighed. "_Yessss..._" Booth felt his balls tighten again as he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus on maintaining the rapidly fraying threads of his self-control.

Leaning in close to him so that her mouth was near his ear, she breathed, "I'll let you in on a little secret, Booth."

"Yeah?" he said, opening his eyes again.

"Do you know what I've fantasized about for more than four years?" she said. "Do you know what was going through my mind every time I touched myself...every time I was alone in my bed and my naked body would stretch out against the softness of my sheets because I was alone, or when in my shower and I let my fingers creep down between my legs to satisfy an ache that was only there because I was wet from something besides the water, or in my office late at night because you'd left and I could still smell your scent in the air and I had just a little too much excess energy to burn off? Do you know what image I had in my mind every time I started to touch myself?"

"No," he croaked, nearly coming then and there at the thought that she had rubbed herself off in her office to a fantasy image of him. "What?"

"I'll give you a hint," she moaned into his ear, her breath hot on his earlobe. "Every time it ended with me screaming your name. Sometimes it was soft and gentle, no more than a whisper. Sometimes it was hard and fast, and I was panting afterwards. But, every time...it was your name. You."

"Oh, fuck it," he groaned, reaching for her in a grab that was more than slightly frenzied. "Fuck the end of the second period. We're going for the third period, now." He flashed his eyebrows. "Right now—and don't even fucking tell me you're not ready, 'cause I know you are."

"Ohh," she whispered, thrusting her hips against his forearm, watching with keen interest as he stroked himself a couple of more times. "I'm ready...more than ready. But, are you sure you are, Booth? Are you really ready?"

"I've been ready for years," he husked. "_Years_..."

Booth narrowed his eyes and took a step towards her, placing his knee between her legs before nudging them farther apart, noting with a faint smile the dampness on the inside of her thighs. He tilted his head to the side as he met her pale eyes with his, their eyes flickering briefly in a silent conversation when he moved yet closer, bringing his mouth to hers. He moaned into their kiss as she opened her mouth to his, his hand cupping her jaw firmly as he sought out her tongue greedily. He kissed her hard, pulling back a little to test her and chuckling as her grasping lips chased his, her eager tongue seeking his out as they slid against one another in a twirling, intimate dance amid the warm, wet space between them. He pulled her mouth against his, bruising her with his kiss before drawing away once more.

"How..."

"Well," she moaned. "While I'll admit that most of the time I got myself off it involved an image of your gorgeous head between my thighs, I think as long as you're hard and put your cock in me in the next sixty seconds or less, I don't really care how."

"Aww, shit, Bones," he hissed, letting go of himself as he braced his left arm against the wall, pinning her against the textured plaster with a thrust of his hip. "You've been driving me fucking nuts for years," he whispered.

"And, is now really any different?" she hissed as she felt him rub against her.

"Yes," he said firmly. "It is. Because now I know there's nothing to hold me back." He shook his head with a grin. "No second-guessing, no little voices in the back of my head telling me all the reasons why I shouldn't do this. Nothing."

"Do what, Booth?" she said, looking up at him.

"Fuck that damn genius brain of yours out of your goddamn skull," he said, his voice low and dark as he stared into her dilated eyes, rimmed as they were with but the faintest, thinnest ring of iris.

"Even though you've only got one hand?" she asked with a throaty laugh as she rolled her head back and thrust her chest at him, dragging the hard points of her nipples across his skin.

"I'm not gonna be fucking you with my hand, Bones," he grunted, jerking his pelvis against hers. "I only need one hand and two arms to do what I'm gonna do to you."

"Ahh," she breathed as she felt him thrust his erection into the softness of her thigh. "So, is this where I finally get to see what you can actually do with that other prominent appendage of yours there or what?"

He grinned at her description of his cock as a prominent appendage. If she were any other woman, or he any other man, it would have been a wilting way to refer to it, but a part of him he didn't completely understand twittered at her squinty talk, and he felt himself—impossible though it might have seemed—get even harder at hearing it.

"You know it," he growled, reaching down with his casted right arm and pushing her left thigh to the side, opening her up a little before swiftly sliding his arm under her knee and lifting her leg up. "You fucking know it."

Brennan hissed slightly as she felt a current of air wash across her as he opened her as if she were a package to be inspected intently. "Careful there," she murmured. "If you think the teasing I've been doing with my mouth when I speak is bad, remember what else my mouth can do when I have a mind to do it."

Booth grinned evilly as he saw the way her soaked curls glistened, the moisture glimmering a pale rose against the flickering red light cast by the neon sign below his bedroom window. "Right," he muttered. "But somehow, I don't think you're gonna head me off at the pass here, Bones. Because you want me to fuck you with my cock—right now."

"No," she agreed with a nod. However, in a very quick movement, she reached down and curled her finger tips of one hand around his balls. Using her fingertips to knead them with a light but persistent touch, she hummed lightly as she said, "But, enough play time, Booth. In me...you need to be in me—right now."

"Pssssh," he said, batting her hand aside as he closed his fingers around his cock, leaning into her once more. He sucked in a breath as he swiped his cock over her damp curls, a loose smile on his lips as he felt her slippery juices coat the underside of his sensitive tip. He pressed into her, brushing his arousal across her clit, holding his tongue lightly between his teeth as the sensation of it—her hard, swollen clit, covered slick with her fluid as her crisp curls tickled the sides of his tip, which was tight as a drum—and he managed only a couple of oval-shaped strokes before he knew he couldn't take it anymore.

"Ahhh," she moaned at his touch as she felt her steady arousal begin to build in a steady crescendo.

He let go a quiet sigh before rolling his hips back and driving up and into her with a long groan, his eyes rolling back into his head as he felt her folds part and then close around him, so tight, wet and hot.

"Fuck," she breathed as she felt him slide into her. "More...deeper," she moaned in encouragement. "Go deeper."

"Damn, Bones," he whispered, drawing his hips back as he withdrew, leaving only his swollen tip inside of her as he raised her leg a little higher with his casted arm.

"You want to know how flexible I am, Booth?" she said with a breathless whisper. "You want to know why I get up at 5:00 in the morning three times a week to go to the gym for yoga classes before I go to the lab? Do you?"

Booth quirked an eyebrow and grinned. "I think I'm gonna find out, huh?"

"Can you keep up with me?" she challenged him with a simple smile of encouragement.

"You better fucking believe it," he replied excitedly.

Thrusting up, she used one hand to brace herself using his good shoulder as leverage before she hoisted first one silky leg and then the other around his waist. Wrapping her legs around him with a light touch, she grunted as she felt him shift his legs into a wider stance to support their combined weight.

"With me?" she breathed.

"Huh," he grunted back, unable in that moment to articulate a response as the new position drew him deeper into her wet warmth.

"Drop me, and I'll never suck you off again," she threatened with an evil smile. "Now...cock...I'd very much like it if you'd get back to ramming it back inside of me."

"Ohhh," he moaned as he drew back and, with an unintelligible, guttural nasal sound, drove into her, pausing only for a fleeting moment before pulling out with a roll of his hips and pounding back into her. He snaked his left arm around her waist and reached up, palming the middle of her back as he used his forearm to cushion her against the wall. "Oh, sweet Jesus," he whispered as he pulled out and rammed into her with every ounce of strength he had. He fell into a regular, two-stroke rhythm, drawing back slowly before thrusting into her hard and fast, forcing his eyes to stay open as he did so.

As she felt him piston into her, stretching her further with each thrust, she knew it wouldn't take long before she'd come. "Oh, God, Booth—" she moaned. "I'm close."

At some point, a fine sheen of sweat had begun to coat her body almost as if she'd been sprayed with a light watery mist. A bead of sweat fell down her forehead, and her tongue darted out to lick it as she closed her eyes and didn't allow for any other sensations to penetrate the fog of physicality that had settled over her mind as she felt him move in and out of her.

Something in the back of his mind niggled at him to not be so primitive, frowning disapprovingly at the way he grunted as he slammed into her, again and again, roughly parting her slippery folds as he held her close against his chest, feeling the rippled texture of the wall against the skin of his forearm as he rubbed against the surface with each stroke. He felt himself begin to be carried away, rapidly accelerating as he spent towards what he knew would be a thundering release, and as he tried to hold himself together just a bit longer, he tried to focus his mind, not on the incredible silky warmth that he was grinding into with each stroke, but rather on the way the well-worn, carefully-waxed hardwood floor felt beneath his bare feet. "Oh..._fuck, _Bones..." he groaned, wincing as he jerked up and into her, trying to bury himself as deeply inside of her as was possible.

With one particularly hard thrust, Brennan cried out as he stretched her, she felt her walls begin to tighten around him. "Ahhh, ahhhh, _ahhhhh_, God—" Every time she moved, a steady thump began to beat on the wall. She felt nothing as her head contacted with the roughness of his plastered wall, and could only focus on how he felt as he continued to press his warm body against hers. "Ohhhh, fuck me—I'm close...so fucking close, Booth."

Booth pressed the wide pads of his fingertips into her back as he tried to pull her down onto him, trying to bring her to meet even more closely each of his hard thrusts. "Oh...ohhh...baby, you've gotta...oh, damn..."

"Fuck me," she chanted, encouraging him. "If I'm yours, take...me...fuck," she cried. "Oh, God. Fuck me, fuck me—"

"Oh, God," he moaned at her words, nodding his head as he walked his hand a little farther up her back, his fingertips coming to rest between her shoulder blades. He pulled her flush against him, the hard points of her nipples dragging against the broad plane of his chest as he pressed his pelvis against hers, grinding his pubic bone into her with each thrust. Booth imagined himself closing every possible gap between their bodies as he drew himself up and into her, pulling her down and over him with each motion. He felt her sweat against his skin, sliding against him effortlessly as his mouth fell open. "Fuck, Bones...oh my..._holy_..._oh fuck_..."

As he pulled her tightly against him, she felt her heart roar in her ears, and she didn't even realize how strong her pulse had quickened as he continued to move in her. As she felt him stretch her further with each movement, she wasn't even aware as her legs loosened slightly and her ankles fell down the firm arch of his ass.

"Ohhhh," she cried as she felt him start to spend in her and further push her into her own orgasm. "Oh, oh, oh...oh, God, _Boooo-tthhh_."

Hearing his name sound on her lips like that, so long, deep and breathy, more beautiful in his ears than he had ever imagined it would be, he broke, shuddering as he jerked up and into her, burying himself as deeply into her wet heat as he could and holding himself there as he shattered completely, pulsing into her with a long groan. "Oh..._Bonesssss_..._ohhhhhh_..."

"Oh, wow," she whispered, panting as she slowly regained control of her breath.

Booth sighed and slowly opened his eyes, raising his eyebrows and blinking as he tried to center himself. He felt his chest heaving against hers, his vision dotted by a swirl of stars as he tried to still his breath. "Ohhh," he whispered, suddenly realizing his chin was resting on her shoulder as he felt her hot and sweaty skin brush against his neck with each breath.

"Bed," she murmured in his ear.

"What?" he gasped, blinking away the starry haze as he became aware that they still stood, joined, her legs loosely crossed behind the small of his back, her heels brushing against his ass, as he held her with one arm against his chest. "Oh," he whispered. "Right."

"But, don't drop me," she said with a short laugh. "Okay?"

"Psssh," he hissed with a half-grin, walking his left hand around to curl his fingers around her side, supporting the middle of her back with his forearm as he slowly backed away from the wall.

He heard her suck in a breath and smirked as their eyes met, her lips curved upward in a closed-mouthed smile as he stepped towards the bed and bent over, setting her down gently with a grin, silently proud of himself for having managed the feat with a modicum of finesse even as his injured, casted hand hung limply at his side.

"Have I ever let you down?" he whispered, echoing his earlier words, as he put a knee on the bed and took a moment just to gaze on the sight before him. "God, you're beautiful," he said to her as she slid back towards the head of the bed, unfurling the comforter to reveal the wrinkled sheets of his hastily-made bed. He crawled up onto the bed and sidled up against her left side. Leaning his casted hand, which had by then begun to throb a little, against the headboard, he snaked his left arm over the gentle curve of her abdomen, tracing his thumb over her navel before bringing his fingers to rest, softly curled around the swell of her hip.

"Mmmmm," Brennan murmured, rolling her head to the side as she brushed her lips across the soft, warm skin that covered the firm, round of his shoulder. "That was...mmmm..." She grinned as she kissed the top of his deltoid, stroking her forefingers over the way the muscle spread, fanlike, over the back of his shoulder. "You have absolutely perfectly-formed shoulders, Booth," she whispered, smiling into his bicep as he moved his arm back.

"Heh," Booth chuckled. "Thanks." He reached up and took a lock of her auburn hair between his fingers. He rolled the soft hank of silky hair between his thumb and index finger, twirling it around his thick finger, unable to suppress a smile at the beautiful, intimate sensation of touching her this way. "I love your hair," he said to her quietly. "I've always wanted to touch it like this."

"I always wished it was a little wavier," she laughed. "I can do it up in curls, but they fall out after a few hours unless I set them with a copious quantity of hairspray."

Booth shook his head. "No," he whispered. "I love your hair. It's perfect. I like it down, like this, and I like it in that cute little ponytail you wear at the lab." He grinned. "I even like it when you wear a baseball cap, like you did that afternoon we arrived in Vegas a couple of years ago, and you had your little ponytail sticking out the back of your ballcap. That was so cute."

"You're being sentimental, Booth," she said, swatting his forearm playfully.

"Am not," he countered with a smile. Their eyes met, and as she gave him a knowing look, he eventually blinked and smiled. "Okay, maybe a little," he admitted with a flash of his eyebrows.

"I should've guessed," she muttered, narrowing her gaze as she watched his long, thick fingers play with her hair out of the corner of her eye. "Do you always wax especially sentimental in the throes of a post-coital haze?"

"Heh," he grunted, unthreading his fingers from his as he rolled onto his side to face her. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

Brennan snickered. "Well," she said. "Is your hand hurting you? It's well past the time you should've taken your second hydrocodone pill, Booth."

"Hmm," he murmured, sliding his hand over her hip and drawing a circle around her navel with the tip of his index finger. "I had another idea of how to, you know, take my mind off the pain. You know, maybe we should, uhh, get all those ectomorphins and gropamines coursing through my veins again? 'Cause I think that would be completely awesome, don't you?"

She snorted at his deliberate malapropism. "Gropamines?" She laughed, twisting underneath his touch as he tickled her navel. "Hmmm...that's your technical turn for how you feel because you get to grope me, now, right?" She raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm not so sure," she said, barely able to suppress her laughter as his hand slid slowly but deliberately lower, his fingertips brushing across the top of her crisp curls.

"Oh, come on, Bones." He grinned. "How 'bout we try one of those homeopathic remedies, and then, after we've tested that strategy, I promise I'll take my pill—before I go to sleep, okay?" He paused and then added, "But, only as long as, I'm, ya know, properly supervised...so you might have to hang around to make sure I follow the doc's instructions to the letter." He pressed his hand lower, his fingers threading through her dark curls as his middle finger stroked lightly over her cleft. "In my infirm state, I can't really be trusted to—"

She rolled onto her side to face him, dislodging his attentive fingers as she did so. "Your infirm state?" she repeated with a laugh, leaning in closer as she brought her leg over his hip. "You didn't seem particularly infirm before...as a matter a fact, I seem to recall quite the opposite—"

"Well, It must be the excellent quality of the nursing care," he whispered, a soft moan escaping his lips as he slowly stroked into her for the second time that night, and he heard her moan against him in a way that gave him a new thing to shiver about.

"Ohhhhh..."

"Oh, yeah..."

* * *

><p><strong>Epilogue: One Month Later<strong>

Agent Perotta leaned back in her chair, her eyes skimming over Booth's face with a skeptical arch of her brow. "So, where did you go after the game?" she asked.

"Uh," Booth said with a smirk. Perotta noted the flicker behind his brown eyes as she saw him consider how to answer her question. Eventually, he said simply, "Bones drove me and Wendell to the hospital."

She scribbled something on her notepad then looked up again. "So," she said, "no alibi that night or the next?"

Booth pressed his lips together as he tried vainly to suppress a smile. "Bones and I are just partners," he replied, although once again his eyes glittered as a memory played back in his mind. He knew his best attempt at maintaining a poker face was failing miserably, but as he glanced down at the interrogation table, he found himself unable to rid his mind of the image of his partner, clad in nothing but a pair of lacy purple panties and one of his faded but beloved Talking Heads T-shirts, standing next to the refrigerator that morning as he fumbled in front of the stove frying a couple of eggs.

"_You've got less than two weeks to go, Booth," she said, rolling her eyes. "You've made it this long with one hand. I'm sure you can manage another twelve days."_

"_But, I'm just really so damn sick of this damn cast," he grumbled. "I want my hand back."_

"_I knew you'd eventually regret insisting on getting that ludicrous hard cast," she said, shaking her head with a laugh. "I did tell you that, remember? You've made things more difficult for yourself because of your stubborn refusal to accept a soft cast."_

"_I've managed alright with one hand," he snickered, twirling the spatula in his left hand as he leaned into her with his hip with a soft grunt and gave her a lewd grin before he planted a soft kiss on her lips. "But, just think how good I'll be with two hands, huh?"_

"Okay," Perotta said with a crooked grin. "Now, you're answering questions I had no intention of asking."

Booth grinned, shrugging vaguely.

Perotta narrowed her eyes briefly, then continued. "Is it your contention that, uh, your argument with the victim was constrained to the ice?"

Booth nodded, still unable to wipe the smile from his lips. "That is my contention," he answered.

_Now, my little sparring with Bones? _he thought as he continued to answer Perotta's questions. _Totally something else_..._and what a something else it was_..._and is. Yeah_—

* * *

><p><em><strong>The End<strong>_

(of scenario #4)

_**To Be Continued**_

(for the series)

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><p><strong><span>AN: **_You didn't think we'd end this without asking for your closing thoughts. Of course. We want to know what you thought of this piece. It started off originally as a sponge bath and a wallfuck and, in epic_** dharmasera**_ style, morphed into something much longer and more emotionally complex. Did it "work" for you? Did you enjoy it?_

_We want to know. You see, we are working on Scenario #5, which will take B&B to the Ocala National Forest in central Florida. The more review activity we see here, the happier and more amped our respective muses will be to get that Scenario #5 posted right away. And, if past performance is any indicator of future fic success, Scenario #5 will probably be pretty hot. Perhaps epically hot. Who are we kidding? It will be epically hot._

_So press that magic little review button and share your thoughts._

_Yep, we've been through this before. Uh-huh. That's the one. _

_Thanks!_


	18. 18—That's Not A Rock, Pt I

**A Very Bad Idea**

**By:** **dharmamonkey **_&_ **Lesera128**

**Rated: **_M _

**Disclaimer: **_Ummm, nope, we still don't own anything. We have, however, apparently become squatters in the sandbox that we crashed... so, umm... yeah. So there we go..._

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><p><strong>AN: Lesera128 **and **dharmamonkey **_would like to toast the season with a tale that gives you all the best of spring with a little Florida twist, a tribute to our home state. This piece will be full of a lot of what you've come to expect from us—snarky banter, a bit of angst and epic B&B unf—along with a bit of stuff you might not have read in fanfic-space before. This piece is going to be full of all kinds of Sunshine State goodness. We hope you enjoy it. _

**Unf Alert: **_Yes, people. This story will include unfness. Yep, that kind, just like the other VBI scenarios did. If you don't like that kind of thing, we wonder (a) why the heck you put this story on alert, and (b) why you're still reading this A/N and not hitting that browser back button already. If you dig the unfness, then read on, our friends. Read on._

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><p><strong>V. That's Not A Rock, Part I<strong>

**Pertinent Details on Scenario #5****: **Set during the episode 4x09: "Con Man in the Methlab."

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><p>The evening had not gone as Brennan thought it would turn out in the slightest. After she'd made it patently clear to Jared that any hopes he had of turning the romantic were foolhardy, an easy rapport had developed between the pair. Neither one of them mentioned the kiss that he'd given Brennan. For her, it was largely because she didn't want to hurt his feelings―in truth, she acted somewhat out of character in a moment of sentimentality because she didn't have the heart to tell him that when he'd kissed her, it was about the same feeling she had when Russ gave her a peck hello or goodbye.<p>

A smile came to her face as she remembered kissing Booth the Christmas before. _"It was like kissing my brother, she'd told Caroline after her lips had parted from Booth's. "You sure must like your brother," the prosectutor had replied, her forehead creased as an awkwardness hung in the air between the three of them._

For Jared, once he asked her what the problem was as to why she wasn't more responsive to her overtures―and without saying it, she had indicated that it was his brother―he knew better than to press his luck in what quickly clearly became a no-win situation to him. And, that was how they'd ended up spending the evening going to an all-night coffee house near the White House that Brennan knew of thanks to a few interviews she had given to reporters on the D.C. beat. They'd spent the night sipping lattes and talking about Booth.

Once it became clear that the possibility of a romantic situation had been eliminated from his near future, Jared had actually turned out to be quite funny and charming in a very relaxed way that made conversing with him easy. After a time, he too started to feel comfortable around Brennan when he'd stopped trying to impress her. In many ways, Jared was more extroverted and unguarded than Booth ever was, and it was from his little brother that Brennan began to see a picture of Seeley Booth that she'd never otherwise have gained.

In the beginning, Jared started out with a few funnier stories of his relationship with his older brother. Perhaps the most funny was the argument they had when Jared informed him that yes, after high school he'd decided to take up the military career that both Booth and Hank had been uncertain Jared would have the gumption and strength to actually take up, despite the family tradition. The moment of elation that Booth had had at realizing that Jared was going to make a commitment to the U.S. military had quickly been shattered when the eighteen-year-old Jared informed him that yes, he would be going into the military, but not quite as soon as either Booth or Hank expected. The explanation had further infuriated Booth.

Quite nefariously, Jared had managed to cultivate a friendship with the son of their district's U.S. Congressmen. After several months—and a lot of politicking for which Jared had proved quite well suited―his friend's father had agreed to write a letter of support in favor of Jared's appointment to the U.S. Naval Academy in Annapolis. Bucking what would be four generations of Booth men who had joined the Army (or, by default, the Air Force)―Hank's father having served in the US Air Service (a forerunner of the US Army Aircorps) as a support pilot to the American Expeditionary Force in France in the spring of 1918 during World War I; Hank having served as a paratrooper in the European theatre during World War II; their father having flown for the Air Force during Vietnam; and Booth himself having accepted a position as an infantry soldier since he'd really never liked flying. Still, not a single member of the Booth family had ever crossed the line from groundpounders and flyboys to squids and jarheads as Jared intended to do. When Jared explained that he not only preferred the idea of making his own way in a branch of the military where he had no family legacy to which he had to meet expectations, and further that he intended to become an officer, Booth had exploded and punched Jared for the very first time. The fight that ensued had been one of the more nasty ones that the brothers would have over the years, but looking back Jared had laughed about it.

Brennan had remained silent for much of the first story, and as he became used to her quirks, Jared opened up more and more. He spoke with respect and admiration about Hank, with fondness and longing for their father in a way Booth never had, and even mentioned the faint memories he had other their mother before her untimely death. With each story, Brennan became hungry for more, and she didn't realize how much time had passed until the pair began to watch the sun rise from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial―a place to which they'd eventually made their way after growing tired of the coffeehouse.

Realizing that it made more sense to go straight to the Jeffersonian than backtrack to her apartment, Brennan had bid Jared goodbye just as D.C. had begun to awaken from its nightly slumber. Taking a bag with a spare change of clothes she kept in the back of her car 'just in case', she'd only had enough time to change and grab another cup of coffee before she found Dr. Clark Edison waiting to consult with her about his hypothesis that the set of remains they all thought were Jim Stegman's actually didn't belong to that man after all. She was in the middle of reviewing his work when the first of what was to be several visitors to her office arrived as Dr. Camille Saroyan greeted her, Brennan responded and let it slip that the reason she was early because she hadn't been to sleep yet, and Clark began to tense unhappily as their conversation bounced from personal to professional.

For someone who was admittedly never very good in reading people, Brennan could feel the waves of anxiety rolling off of Camille Saroyan. If her stilted words of inquiry as to why Brennan was arriving at the lab late hadn't alerted her to the fact that something was bothering the pathologist, her body language certainly more than conveyed her meaning. Brennan really only wanted to finish consulting on the preliminary findings that Clark had for her, and make up for lost time with the remains to find out the actual identity of the man who was on her examination slab. However, Cam's frown stopped her from proceeding with that task.

As she watched the titular head of her lab, Brennan was at a loss for how much she should discuss her personal life with Cam. At last, Cam's words made the decision for her when the woman offered to share her expertise not on just one Booth brother―i.e., the one she'd actually dated―but the _other _one as well.

_Seriously...since when did Cam become such a certified expert on anyone or anything having to do with the while Booth family? _Brennan complained to herself. _The next thing she's going to be telling me is that she's become some sort of genealogical authority on John Wilkes Booth and the entire family's lineage going back to their lives in England during the eighteenth century_.

Being more than a bit testy―as Cam's extremely up close and personal relationship with Booth had always been a sore spot with her―when combined with her sleep deprivation, Brennan couldn't help herself as she snapped, "I didn't have sex with him, Cam."

Cam was taken a bit aback by both Brennan's tone and the fact that she had been referred to by her first name―and not the normal 'Dr. Saroyan' appellation with which Brennan normally referred to her. She opened her mouth to respond, still not quite certain as to what she might say, when she was cut off by Angela's timely entrance.

Coming into the office with more than what some might call perfect timing when it came to any discussions of sex that seemed to be taking place between anyone who was in the lab, Angela casually looked at her best friend and asked, "Didn't have sex with who?"

This time, it was Brennan who opened her mouth to speak, and this time it was she who was cut off as Cam interrupted her response by answering for her. "Jared Booth."

The artist let her eyes casually glance from Brennan to Cam and back to Brennan again before she handed a file folder to Clark, and nodded at him. Clark let out a sigh of thanks as he took the manila file folder, glanced down at it, realized it was some of the information he'd been waiting on from the artist regarding her progress on the victim's facial reconstruction, and took it like the life preserver it was. Quickly retreating from the office with a look of deep gratitude at her before he left, Angela couldn't help but smile as Clark scurried out of the office almost as if his life depended on it.

Looking over at her best friend once Clark was gone, Angela then nodded and said, "Good."

Tilting her head at Angela's monosyllabic response, Brennan asked, "Why good?"

For a split second, she almost forgot that she and Angela weren't alone. Some of the irritability she felt because of Cam's presumptuousness gnawed at her a bit, and that cantankerous feeling increased as Cam responded instead of letting Angela speak.

"Because…" she offered with a strong breath of passionate response. However, the more Cam tried to speak, the more she seemed perplexed by how to convey her thoughts to Brennan without causing too much offense. _Why do I feel as if I've walked into a lion's den, that lion is a very literal and rational-minded forensic anthropologist, and I've forgotten my Indiana Jones fedora and bull whip? _Cam silently lamented. "Because…." she tried again, and still, as she felt Brennan staring quite hostilely at her, the pathologist was unable to finish the thought. _Oh, God. I so do not want to be here having this conversation right now with her…but, I have to because of Seeley. He cares about her…and so for him, she's got to understand about Jared. Damn it...fine. Here goes_―_I think..._

Seeing Cam struggle to come up with a response, Angela took pity on the forensic pathologist and nodded at Brennan as she completed Cam's point. "Because he's Booth's little brother, and it would just be a creepy way to have sex with a Booth without having sex with the real Booth."

A look of relief flooded Cam's face as she looked over at the artist and nodded at her with another look of deep gratitude and clear appreciation on her face. "Kudos, Angela," she smiled. "I would not have had the guts to say that aloud."

Feeling torn between wanting to ask her friend for clarification, and annoyance at Cam's continued unwanted insertion into her private life, Brennan wasn't sure how to proceed and so merely looked up at

Angela and said, "Jared is a real Booth."

Angela considered her words for a minute before she nodded. "Hmmm. Jared's Booth-lite." Brennan's brow furrowed as Angela wondered if the forensic anthropologist understood the point she was trying to get across to her or not. Deciding it was better to be safe than sorry, Angela added, "Booth is the real Booth."

As Angela finally brought up her partner by name, and seeing that Cam was watching her expectantly, Brennan felt a bit of panic flare in her as she suddenly felt that she was having a discussion that she really didn't want to be having at that very moment.

_I'm not doing this―not here, not with Cam. Because, okay, maybe it would be one thing if it were just Angela and I, but it's not. Cam's here, and we're not alone, and frankly, I don't trust her. So, I'm not having a conversation that might delve into romantic and/or sexual topics while one of Booth's ex-lovers is in the room…especially __not__ when that lover's Cam. So…_

In an effort to take back control of a situation which she felt she was very quickly watching spiral out of control, Brennan waved her hand at her friend as she went on the offensive and said, "Wait. Stop."

"What?" Angela asked, her brow furrowing a bit in concern as she instantly recognized Brennan's defensive posturing when it appeared. "What is it?"

"I'm sorry," Brennan said with a shake of her head. "But, I don't really find it appropriate to be having this discussion here and right now."

"What discussion?" Angela said with an arch of her eyebrow. "And, why not? We always talk. What's wrong with talking right now?"

"Any discussion that has anything to do with me and Booth having or potentially having sex," Brennan answered truthfully. "I don't want to talk about it here and now."

"But, we always talk about your dates," Angela said with a frown. "It's what we've always done."

"Well," Brennan shrugged. "In this particular instance, I'm afraid we're going to have to modify that protocol, Ange. I'm sorry, but―"

"You've never minded talking about the guys you were sleeping with before," Angela continued, not willing to let the situation go as she tried to understand what was so different about this particular instance. "You've never not once said you wouldn't talk to me about guy stuff and how you're having sex with―"

"Three points of correction regarding that statement," Brennan said as she lifted her gaze to meet Angela. "First, I've never had any serious concerns about discussing certain aspects of the more physical elements of some of my interactions with men in the past because they were about men who in no way would be bothered and/or placed in an uncomfortable situation―either personally or professionally―if they knew you possessed that knowledge. However, considering the fact that you work with Booth, and he is an _extremely _private man, and doesn't feel comfortable having his personal life gossiped about, I'm not going to have this discussion here and now out of respect for him." Brennan couldn't help it as her eyes darted to Cam as she finished the last sentence.

_Some people may not be able to be discreet when they start sleeping with one of their co-workers, but until he says otherwise, I'm not doing that to Booth_, Brennan thought as she looked at the pathologist.

Somewhat uncharacteristically oblivious to the mildly dirty look that Brennan had shot Cam as she finished her statement, the artist concentrated on what was clearly an atypical display of behavior for her friend. "But, wait," Angela said, crossing her arms. "You just said that there's no big deal about you and Booth."

"Second," Brennan said, ignoring her best friend's point, as she tilted her head to look at Cam and continued speaking. "I apologize if this sounds abrupt, but I don't feel comfortable having this discussion with you present, Dr. Saroyan." She stopped and then said, "While I have great respect for you in your professional capacity as a forensic pathologist and member of this lab, I wouldn't say that either of us have developed the familiarity or camaraderie that I've shared with Angela for several years. That is, I believe, in part, due to the fact that of the three women in this room, only one of them has actually engaged in a sexual relationship with Booth. As such, I feel that it would be inappropriate to continue this conversation lest you accidentally air any of his proverbial dirty laundry in public."

Cam stared wide-eyed at Brennan's words. She then felt a flash of anger at Brennan's implications. "I would never betray one of Seeley's confidences. He's one my dearest friends, and I'm only here to make certain you don't do something to screw up and hurt him."

"And, I would never intentionally hurt Booth, either," Brennan snapped at her. "He's _my_ partner…and my friend. I care about him a tremendous amount."

"But, not enough not to start sleeping with his little brother," Cam retorted.

"I already told you―and, thank you, because that brings me to point number three―that I didn't sleep with Jared," Brennan told Cam with a clear sharpness evident in her voice. "I didn't sleep with him, even though he did kiss me, and I could've had sex with him if I wanted to, but I didn't because I was only with him since Booth needed a favor when you pulled out and couldn't go. The only reason I went to that damn reception last night was to do something nice for him." As she continued to talk, Cam and Angela's eyes grew wider and wider with every string of words she continued to utter. But, Brennan still wasn't done talking as she continued to speak, the sentences rolling off of her tongue like a confession freely given now that she had finally started to tell the truth. "I don't want to sleep with Jared. I never did, and I never will. I mean, yes...he's attractive, but he's not as good looking as Booth. You said it yourself…he's not Booth, and he never will be. I mean, for God's sake, Jared and I spent the entire night talking about Booth. So―"

"You spent the entire night with Jared...talking about Booth...even though Jared tried to put the moves on you?" Angela dared to interrupt her best friend. A knowing look came onto her face as she waited for Brennan's response.

"Yes," the forensic anthropologist said. "I did. Now, I hope I've cleared up this little misunderstanding that you both seem to have regarding with I did or didn't have sex with Jared Booth, because the truth of the matter is that I didn't sleep with him because I don't care about him like that. He's just not the person I have incredibly strong romantic feelings for, and, since I only want to sleep with Booth, why would I possibly make the stupendously dumb and asinine choice to have sex with his little brother if the only man I want to be with is Booth?"

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Brennan suddenly realized what she'd said. Her mouth promptly closed as Cam and Angela stared at her in open-mouthed surprise that quickly transitioned into abject fascination and clear knowing. Taking in a quick glance at the two women's shared response, Brennan's gaze only looked away in the direction of her office's door when she heard a familiar voice booming through the lab's open atrium and approaching heavy footfall.

"Bones? Where are ya?"

_Of course, he would show up now…of course, he would, _Brennan muttered as she struggled with trying to understand what she'd just said aloud. Her heart sank a bit as she saw Booth jauntily making his way towards her office. Knowing she needed to intercept him, Brennan pushed her panic away and calmly focused on achieving one goal―getting to her partner and getting him alone before either Cam or Angela could do so and tell him what she'd just said. _Great, just great_, Brennan mentally lamented. _You've got perfect timing as always, Booth―just fucking perfect, damn it!_

Flushing in embarrassment, Brennan shook her head as she headed to the office door and muttered, "I, ummmm...I need to go." She stopped only long enough to grab her purse and messenger bag from where she'd tossed it on her couch earlier. Standing up, she tugged at the close-cropped black pinstripe suit jacket she was wearing over a slightly wrinkled golden yellow button-down shirt. Nodding at Cam and Angela, she said, "If you'll both excuse me, I need to go find my partner and tell him that I've made a crucial breakthrough and come to a rather pertinent decision about the future of our sex lives. So...I'll be in touch."

And, with that, she was gone, leaving two women staring after her in complete shock.

_Although perhaps not as much shock as Booth's in for_, Angela thought wryly as she watched Brennan make a beeline for her partner, practically drag him towards the lab exit, and quickly disappear. _No, definitely not_.

* * *

><p>Brennan was trying her best to will away the flushed look that she knew was most certainly on her face because of the fact that she just had had her unexpected revelation about her feelings for Booth.<p>

_I want to sleep with Booth_, Brennan thought. _Fuck. When did that happen? I mean...what in the hell's going on here? How could I have missed something like this? I mean, obviously it didn't just suddenly happen since everyone knows I never do anything quickly or on a spur of the moment. Damn it. _She desperately wanted to stop to take some time to think about things, but knew she didn't have a moment to spare. _I need to confront this situation here and now before I find some reason to talk myself out of doing anything about it. I can think about why and how it happened later. I mean, I know that I've always been physically attracted to him, but this is different. I want to sleep with him because...I care about him. I care about him...a lot. I care about him because...he's special to me. Oh, God_―_he's...oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit. When did he become so special to me? How could I have possibly missed something like this? But, I did. And, now he's here. And, I've got to tell him because if I don't do it now then Cam or Angela will do it. Damn it all to hell. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!_

"Bones!" came Booth's booming voice again. "Yoo hoo!"

As Brennan rounded a corner, and saw the familiar visage of her partner, she looked up at him and nodded with what she hoped was a normal look of greeting that completely belied her recent inner sense of emotional discovery. She immediately couldn't help it as she felt a small flip-flop in her stomach as she took in the sight of him, clad as he was in a fairly simplistic dark grey suit, crisply starched white dress Oxford, and a shiny gunmetal grey sateen tie. Brennan's hands went to her hair as she mentally cursed how bad she must look and hoped he wouldn't notice the dark circles under her eyes that she hoped her concealer hid. "Hello, Booth."

"Heya, Bones," Booth said with a grin as he nodded at her. "Where ya been hiding?"

"I haven't been hiding," Brennan responded, a bit too quickly. She swallowed once, took a breath, and then quickly said, "I, uhhh...I need to talk to you."

"Goody gumdrops," Booth told her as he clapped his hands together in clear expectation. "'Cause I need to talk with you, too. We just got word on a new case."

"Case?" she said with a strange look coming onto her face as her brain was forced to shift gears from her plans of how to make such a significant personal revelation to confusion over what was clearly a change in their professional _modus operandi_. "What do you mean case? We still haven't solved the Stegman homicide. As a matter a fact―"

"Yup," Booth nodded as he waved his hand to indicate that she needed to be quiet. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, Bones―I know that. But, we gotta get while the getting's good." He stopped as he gave her a look of clear assessment as he let his eyes roam over her in an appraising glance. "I hope you have some sunscreen, because we've got a plane to Florida to catch."

"Florida?" she asked in abject confusion. "But, why in the hell do we have to go to Florida?" She immediately became even more flustered than she already was since he'd thrown her a proverbial curveball and made it all but impossible for her to achieve the goal she'd set on a spur of the moment when Brennan was never an individual who'd done spontaneous well. "We're in the middle of a case here, Booth," she protested lamely again, not knowing what else to say.

_I don't want to go to Florida...at least not unless it's for the purpose of you and me procuring a hotel for several days of prolonged and hopefully innovative sexual encounters that are only interrupted by a need to sleep and consume room service, _Brennan thought, wincing slightly as she felt a warm, wet pulse between her legs at the thought.

"Because this is how it works, Bones," Booth said as he shot her a strange glance. _What's with her? _he wondered. _She hasn't been a pain in the ass about an out-of-town case for a good long while. She's an intrepid traveler, and with that no-holds-barred Jeffersonian expense account, she's always good for a spur of the moment trip. I mean...it couldn't be that she doesn't want to leave D.C. because of anything that happened last night, right? I mean...nothing happened between her and Jared...but, even if it did, Bones isn't the type that would let something personal get in the way of her doing a job that needs to get done_―_so what gives? _Booth narrowed his eyes and tried to ignore the dark sense of foreboding that poked at him in the back of his mind. _Hmmmm... _ "Remember, Bones, at any point in time, I've a docket of active cases that I have to deal with. I'm never working on just one case. There's always a couple of 'em going on at once."

"Like the RICO case?" Brennan suddenly asked.

Booth arched an eyebrow as he considered her strange question. _Now, why in the hell would she bring that up? Unless she's getting pissy at the thought of me being gone to Hawaii? Heh. I wish. What? You afraid I'm gonna find some Polynesian princess to fuck silly while you're stuck here with my jarhead of a little brother, Bones? Hmmm...sex outside in one of those wickedly awesome garden showers in a tropical locale doing things to one another and hoping we're far enough away from the next bungalow over that no one can hear the screams...or Jared and D.C. Hmmm...I think I'll take Hawaii, please. Aloha!_

Smiling at his inner commentary, Booth looked over at his partner and nodded indulgently. "Yeah, Bones, just like the RICO case. And now we―that is, _you _and _me_―have another case. So, we need to scat and get going so you have enough time to pack your bags, 'cause we're heading to Florida. As in, this afternoon, _kimosabe. _So let's vamoose."

Brennan's brows knit in confusion. "What if I don't want to go?" came the sudden reply.

Booth tilted his head as he considered her tense body language and behavior that, taken cumulatively, seemed to say she was acting in a way that was more than just a bit strange. _What the hell's with her? _he thought. Shaking his head, Booth had to take a minute to come up with the right response. _Because I don't want to open a can of worms here that's gonna be worth more grief than I need right now_―_especially if it has to do with Jared and Bones, because if he does anything to hurt her, I swear to God, I'm gonna kick his ass again. And this time, he'll be lucky if he goes to bed with the same number of teeth he had when he woke up in the morning. _He looked at her and blinked. _I mean, it's not like I care if anything happens between them anyway, but still_―

"Why wouldn't you want to go?" he asked suspiciously, his brow furrowed low over his eyes. "It's not like you've got some kind of hot date tonight or something, right, Bones?"

"No," she said with a huff. _Not unless it involves you and me and a bed where I hope at long last to prove to you just how accurate my statement of four and a half years_―_that we wouldn't have any regrets whatsoever once we had sex_―_is just as true today as it was back then. But, Florida? I don't want to go to Florida with you unless I tell you what I realized. _"No, I do not have any type of date tonight...at least, not that I know of at the current moment."

Her final statement caught Booth's attention, and he again frowned. _Okay, 'not at that she knows of at the current moment?' What the fuck is she talking about?_

"I was just hoping to focus my efforts on the current case," Brennan finally added in a rather lame voice

"You're going, okay?" he said firmly. _Because I'm not letting you fuck up my caseload before I leave for Hawaii just because you want to get busy with my dumbass little brother playing a little bit of the ole in and out. No fucking way, Bones. I haven't had a decent vacation that I spent in the sun just relaxing and fucking a beautiful woman senseless since I went to Costa Rica three years ago. So, no fucking way. Just deal with it. _He then forced a smile, which lightened the tone of his voice as he reached out and tried to grab her arm and lead her towards the lab's main exit. "You'll love this one, Bones: a skeleton hanging from a tree. It's right up your alley, because if it's not, then I don't know what is."

"Wait," Brennan said with a shake of her head as she dug in her heels and tried to keep him from moving him into the lab's main thoroughfare where she knew everyone would see them. "Wait, wait, wait."

"Wait?" Booth asked incredulously. "Why?" he added, his brow knit low and hard over his eyes.

"I told you," she said, a bit of firm desperation coming into her voice. "I need to talk to you. Now. Right now."

"Come on, Bones," he said, rolling his eyes. _Seriously. We need to get out of here, so let's go. You can wax poetic about my lil' bro later...as in, when I can put in my earbuds and drown you out to the dulcet tones of Pink Floyd, U2, and Split Enz._ "You can tell me on the way to the airport."

"No," she said, again shaking her head. Taking a bit of a different approach, she sought out his eyes as she said, "Booth...it's important. Please. I need to speak with you―privately...and now."

Booth glanced down at his watch. "You know," he said, trying to keep any and all signs of trepidation out of his tone of voice. "We have a flight to catch in three hours, and we need to get our bags packed and head on to―"

"Five minutes," Brennan said as she made a gesture with her hand to reflect her plea by holding up five fingers. "Please." She stopped and then sighed. "Come on, Booth. When do I ever say it's important?"

He rolled his lips between his teeth for a moment and considered that point. _Oh, fuck. Here it comes_―_that's right, Booth. Pack your bags and get on the goddamn bus, because you're going on a guilt trip before we go to Florida. Fuck. _Sighing, he nodded his head slowly. "Alright, Bones―but I'm serious, we've gotta make this quick, 'cause we gotta both go home, pack and be at the airport in..." Booth quirked his eyebrow as he noticed the strange look she was giving him. "What?"

Grabbing his hand, she shook her head and muttered, "Trust me. You're going to want to hear this."

"Fine," he said with a crinkled, skeptical brow. "I'm all ears."

"Not here...and we can't go to my office," she nodded again, gently but firmly tugging on his arm in the direction of one of the lab's side exits. "So, outside."

"What are you―?" he choked. "Hey! Stop that." He tried to jerk his arm out of her grasp and scowled when she held on tightly. "Hey, that hurts, Bones. Now, would you just simmer down there, and let go of my damn arm, alright? Sheesh."

"Don't make a scene," she said as she continued guiding them towards one of the lab's secondary exits. "Now, come on."

He held his hands up to let her know he'd follow...but under his own locomotion. _I'm not a damn five-year old that needs his hand held, so stop treating me like some fucking spaniel on a short leash. That may work just fine with Jared, but if you think you can lead me around like some friggin' best-in-show poodle, you've got another thing coming, Bones_. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, centering himself briefly before scanning her face once more. "Fine―lead the way, Bones."

"You'll come?" Brennan asked, arching her eyes suspiciously.

Booth nodded. "Yeah...but just back off, okay?"

"Fine," Brennan said as she dropped his arm. "Follow me."

"Lead the way," he repeated. "I'm right behind you."

By the time they had made their way outside, Brennan pointed to a small alcove where some of the lab technicians sometimes snuck away to have a cigarette even though it was against Jeffersonian policy to smoke anywhere on its grounds. Fortunately, no one was there when they exited. Once they reached the alcove, and Brennan glanced around to make certain they were alone, she looked up at him not quite certain how to proceed now that she'd finally achieved her short-term goal of getting him alone.

"What?" Booth watched her furtive glances and laughed. "Have you taken up smoking, Bones, and you want me to sit out here and light up with you? 'Cause I gave up my short-lived cigarette habit years ago, alright? And I'm not going down _that _road again."

"I know you only smoke the occasional cigar," Brennan responded instantly. "And, if you be quiet for a moment, I might let you have one of the last Cuban ones that I was given by one of the State Department attachés that wanted to thank me last month for my work on the case that identified the remains of the witness from Honduras that U.S. Marshal from West Virginia ended up misplacing because she ended up being on the take from the Jacinto Cartel."

"You've got to be kidding me," he snorted, as he apparently didn't hear a word she'd said beyond the words 'cigar' and 'Cuban.' "You're getting contraband embargoed goods from State Department attachés?" He looked to her for an answer, and guffawed when Brennan nodded in confirmation. "What the hell?" he muttered. "That sucks...well, it just fucking sucks."

"Why?" Brennan asked, clearly confused by his indignant outrage.

"Because!" he exclaimed. "You don't even friggin' smoke cigars, Bones." He then frowned again. "Now I know for certain there's no justice in this world. I mean...seriously. Jeez."

"I normally save them for my dad," Brennan said with a straight face, although a small part of her was laughing intently at Booth's unexpectedly strong reaction of righteous indignation over something so trivial as a cigar. _Hell, _she thought. _If I knew he'd have this reaction by me just mentioning them, I wonder what I could get him to do if I actually had one in front of him. Hmmmm..._ "Who am I to turn up my nose at such a thoughtful gift?" Brennan deadpanned. She then tilted her head as she decided to tease him just a bit more. "Now, if you don't want it, just say so―"

Booth hesitated then allowed a grin. "Yeah," he said. "That won't be necessary. I'll be quite happy to take those babies off of your hands, ya know, with them being contraband and all."

"One," Brennan corrected him as she arched an eyebrow at him. "I said you could have one if you shut up and let me speak."

"One?" he gasped, clearly outraged at the suggestion. "Just, one? Why the hell do I only get one? I think, since we're partners, for God's sake, Bones, I _definitely _deserve more than one. I mean, seriously, what are you saving them for? Don't I deserve a little consideration here since I'm your partner?"

"Well," Brennan said, taking clear joy in watching Booth go off again in clear annoyance. _He's such an easy mark sometimes. And, they say that about me. Ha! _she mentally chuckled. "I'll concede that you do merit some consideration. Some consideration translates to one Cuban cigar."

"Who's getting the rest?" Booth said suspiciously. "I mean, seriously―who's more important to you than me? Because, I'll kick his ass for them if I have to―"

A wry smile broke out on her face as Brennan pursed her lips to keep it from changing into a full out grin. "I believe that you already tried to kick my father's ass, and according to him, he said it was a draw at best."

"Max?" Booth snarked, ignoring her insinuation that her father had bested him in a hand-to-hand contest. "You're going to give them to Max? What in the hell for?"

"Because," Brennan responded. "My father contributed his semen for my conception. I think that's an achievement that merits some filial consideration on my part as a dutiful daughter, don't you?"

"An achievement?" Booth snorted, frowning at the reference to Max's semen. _Oh, Jesus...we're so not having this conversation. I mean, for fuck's sake, Bones. Gross, _he thought_. _"Okay, I definitely don't want to have _this _conversation," he grumbled. He paused, shook his head as he made another face and then looked up at her. "So," he nodded at her. "What do I need to do to qualify for a single measly one of your illegal stockpile of fine Cuban cigars?"

"You can have one," she repeated firmly. "If you want the rest, you can fight him for them. Now, as to an answer to your question―I just want you to shut up and let me tell you...there's something important I need to tell you that happened."

_I have a bad feeling about this, _Booth told himself as he tried to read the odd flicker in Brennan's eyes. _I don't know why, but...whatever. Since I smoked my last Cuban months ago, and the guy at the Bureau who'd been feeding 'em to me took that transfer to the Denver field office, so I don't think I have much of a choice since I lost my source of supply. It'd be nice to get some again since reading the adventures of Hal Jordan of the Green Lantern Corps, and the beer hat, just aren't the same without a good stoogie, so, what the fuck? Okay. I'm in_―

"What's up, Bones?" he asked, resting his hands on his hips as he kept one eye on the lab's side door.

She straightened her posture as she folded her arms and slightly parted her legs as she assumed a firm stance. Taking a breath, her jaw hardened a bit as she lifted her gaze to meet his. And, when she finally found that she had his complete and undivided attention―Brennan found she couldn't say a single word.

_Fuck! _a panicked voice echoed in her head. _Say it. You have his attention. Do it. Tell him, right now. _A second voice snidely commented, _Yes, and how are you going to tell your partner of four and a half years that you've suddenly come to the realization that you are not only sexually attracted to him, but now want to act on it? Well, let's see here, Brennan. Let's be logical, since rationality is a strong personality trait of yours. First, there's Choice A.)_―_You could simply say 'I want to sleep with you in a completely sexual sense, Booth'. Or, there's Choice B.) 'I want to have sex with you beyond satisfying our biological urges'. Or, perhaps you should just go with something simple so there isn't any confusion for Booth, and if that's the best way to go, and it probably is since Booth's Booth, and you don't want to have an mistakes about what you mean, why not go with Choice C.) 'I want you to fuck me senseless because I finally realized how much you mean to me.' So, whatever one you want to go with...fine. Just say it...open your mouth and just say 'I want you to fuck me, Booth'...or, if you can't manage all those words, just tackle him, rip your clothes off, and see what he does when he's got nothing but a clear view of your tits_―

Booth tapped his foot on the stone floor of the patio and glanced at his watch impatiently when he watched as Brennan seemed to be going through whatever she was thinking about at a million miles a minute. _What in the hell's so bad she can't just spit it out? _he wondered. _Unless...oh, fuck. She wants to tell me something bad. That's it, isn't it? Fuck. No...no, that's not happening. Whatever it is, if she can't tell me without freaking out, then I don't wanna hear it_―_no fucking way. Not now. _"Seriously, Bones," he growled, a bit of his annoyance coming into his voice despite his hope that it wouldn't. "We've got a plane to catch―so what's so important it couldn't wait 'til we got through security and to the gate?"

Struggling for words, Brennan shook her head and finally managed to stutter, "I, uhh, I...last night. I...I-I―"

_Last night? Oh, fuck, I was right_, Booth thought as a knot in the pit of his stomach suddenly appeared and tightened. _I knew it. I fucking knew it. You know what, I really don't want to hear this_―_I really fucking don't...so yeah, that's not gonna happen. It's just not. _His brow dropped low and angry over his eyes. "Bones," he said. "If this is about my brother, I really don't want to hear it, alright? I'm sure the two of you had a lovely time, but I don't need to hear about it, so we're good―"

"No," Brennan said shaking her head. "I mean, yes, the party was very nice, and I'm very tired because I didn't get a chance to sleep at all last night, but that's not what I need to tell you."

_She didn't get to sleep last night? _Booth thought, his jaw tightening._ Fuck! I knew it! Jared_―_that fucking asshole. That fucking, goddamn asshole. _"What?" he snapped. Taking a breath, he tried to let go of his anger. "What is it you want to tell me, Bones? Because, we really need to get a move on here. Say what you've gotta say. Spit it out, huh, because we're on a schedule, alright?"

"Earlier, when I was with Cam and Angela in my office," Brennan finally said. "They were both asking me about Jared, and they just wouldn't stop their questioning. I've been in interrogations that are less intense or intrusive. But, when they kept asking me about what happened between Jared and me, it made me realize that...I should be telling you first, not them," Brennan tried to find the words, and knew she was failing miserably, and that only made her feel even worse.

"Bones, you've never had a problem running that trap of yours before, so come on, now." _I really think I could kill him. I wonder if I've learned enough from the squints to hide his body once I wring his fucking neck._ "Just spit it out already," he repeated his earlier command.

"I'm trying, but―" she shook her head, her voice trailing off as she was torn between feeling annoyed at his veiled insult and the need to seize the opportunity to finally tell him the truth. _Fuck, Bren! Come on_―_he's right. It's not that difficult, so just tell him that you care about him and want to be with him. Do it! _a voice in her head cheered her on.

"Well try harder," he said, glancing again at his watch as he tried to push the image―that of Brennan spread naked on some hotel bed with Jared between her knees covering her body with his―out of his mind. _Fucking a'._ "Let's go, huh? Because time's a-wasting. We seriously need to get going here."

"You and me," she tried to begin again. "After last night...what's happened...what I realized. You and me, it's going to be different now I want it to be different now," she finally said, breathing a sigh of relief that she'd actually managed to speak a coherent sentence.

"What?" Booth shook his head in confusion. _Oh, fuck...this is about Jared. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!_ "What on earth are you talking about?" He stopped and knew there wasn't any other way to end what was turning into a painfully awkward conversation in addition to possibly causing them to miss their flight. _Fine. Fuck it. If it gets me out of here, fine. _"Is this about my brother?" he finally asked as he leveled an intent stare at her. "Because if it is, you don't have to tell me anything. Seriously. I really don't want to know―"

"Well, yes, it's about Jared, partly," she breathing a sigh of relief. _Can he know? How? But, oh, that would make this so much easier if he did. Come on, Booth_―_help me out here._ "When we were together last night―" _Last night, when I was with him, I realized how much I'd wished I was with you...and how much I want to be with you now._

Booth groaned. _Together? _The image of a naked Brennan being thrust into by his fucktwit of a baby brother made him nauseous to the point that he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head vehemently. _I knew it. I just fucking knew it. Awww, man, this fucking sucks. Fuck! _"Bones," he said, his frustration mounting. "I really, _really, _I mean _really, _don't want to hear a fucking word about you and my brother, okay?" He stopped as he looked up at her, and then quickly looked away as he was afraid that he might see pity in her eyes, and in that moment, he didn't think he could quite handle that. _No fucking way. Man_― "I shouldn't have let you go out with him last night," he muttered. "What a huge fucking mistake...Jesus." _Just add that one to my tab there, huh?_

"But," she interrupted him, her own frustration mounting at her tongue-twisting as she didn't quite comprehend the significance of his last statement as she was so rapt up in up in what she was trying to tell him. "I need to tell you. It's important, Booth. Now, I've come to an important realization about how I feel―"

Booth sighed again as he stared at her. _Oh, Jesus. Don't tell me that you've suddenly decided that you believe in having feelings for someone, and you picked the wrong brother? Fuck, Bones_―_I don't want to hear it. I'm just...I'm so not fucking interested in hearing this, but you just won't let it go, huh, Bones? Well fine. Fuck it. _

"How you feel about _who?_" he asked. "Jared? Because, if you didn't quite catch it the first four times I said it, I really, _really _don't want to hear another goddamned word about my brother, or what you did with him, or what you feel about him, or any of that crap, okay? So you stayed out all night with him? Fine. But I really don't want to hear about any of your little Bonesy epiphanies you had while you were burning the midnight oil with him, got it?"

_Wait...Jared? _A wave of confusion crested over Brennan. _Wait...he thinks this is about me and...Jared? Not me and him? How can he possibly think that? For real?_

"You think I dragged you all the way out here because I wanted to regale you with information about my date with Jared?" Brennan asked, shaking her head slowly. _Seriously?_

Booth grunted dismissively. "Honestly, Bones? I have no friggin' idea why you dragged me all the way out here. We've got places to go, people to meet, skeletons in trees to go investigating, and you're out here playing some mindfuck game with me, and I really don't need it, okay, so can we please just drop this fucking subject, huh, and please get to the airport so I don't get my ass chewed for the fee it's gonna cost the Bureau if we miss our flight?"

"Why are you angry?" Brennan said, suddenly realizing the hostility that had started to tinge his voice. "I don't understand. What do you have to be angry about?"

He leveled a hard stare at her. "Seriously?" he asked, his voice edged hard with snark. "_Seriously_, Bones?" he took a breath as his eyes hardened to a color that was so dark it made his normally warm brown eyes seem almost black. "You stay out all damn night...and I mean, _all _damn night, to the point where you haven't yet gone to sleep―note, I said _sleep _not _bed_, by the way―with my little brother, after going to a fancy black-tie affair with him, and you don't understand why that might make me a little irritated? You've got to be fucking kidding me. I never thought you were that fucking clueless."

A look of comprehension suddenly light her face as she widened her eyes in obvious surprise. "You think I slept with your brother?"

Booth narrowed his eyes, pursed his lips and bobbed his head back and forth as if considering the question. "You see here, Bones, I'm not the mega-scientist here, but taking all of the evidence at face value, i.e., knowing that you went out with my brother, stayed up all night, never went to sleep, then you're acting all friggin' wonky, then drag me out here because you want to talk about some kind of change in our relationship?" He paused, resisted the urge to clench his fists and slam them into the nearby side of the Jeffersonian's exterior wall, and then just shook his head before he continued. "I mean, I'm no genius, but I can read the writing on the wall here, Bones. I'm not a goddamn fool that fell off the turnip truck yesterday, okay?"

"Seriously?" she said, her eyes wide as she took in his response. "You seriously think I've had some major epiphany because I met your brother, went out on a single date with him―that wasn't even really a date, I'll have you know, since I was just his escort―and then you think I stayed up all night because the two of us spent the entire evening having sex?"

_An escort? _he gulped. _Really, Bones?_

The unpleasant image of Jared drilling into his partner again returned and almost made him want to start spewing his guts up. _Jesus, Bones_― Shaking his head, Booth again tried to push the image away and realized it was getting harder and harder to do each time it popped into his head. _I mean, how could you do that? Seriously? After all this time, you finally give in, and it's to him and not me? Do you even have any idea how fucking sick it makes me feel to think of that asswipe Jared getting to hear you moan his name as you come instead of me? Fuck_―_no, you don't get to do this to me. You just don't._

"So, wait," Booth said, holding his hand up and taking an aggressive step towards her. "So you're saying you _didn't _have an epiphany after going out with Jared last night? Because I'd have sworn you just said that very thing a few minutes ago, right after you dragged me out here to the smoking dock to tell me something _really important." _He emphasized the last two words in a mocking tone.

"You think," Brennan said, feeling some anger crest as she concentrated on his insinuation. "That I would really choose to fall down like some dewy-eyed teenager less than twenty-four hours after I met _your brother_ and simply fall into bed with him just like that?" She snapped her fingers to emphasize her point.

"Bones," he growled. "You've fallen into bed with guys over less―you've told me that yourself."

"Your brother," she repeated emphatically. "Seriously? You think that I'd―your brother!" she repeated, her angry growing with every second that passed. _Do you really think that little of me, Booth? Really? Am I that wrong about you? Because, I know the man that I fall in love with should at least have enough brains to respect me and know me better than that!_ The rather large admission that Brennan had just made―and it's overwhelming significance―was lost in her internal dialogue as her she continued to become more and more angry and continued to rant to vent the mounting anger and frustration. "Do you really think that I'd simply spread my legs for a man who put the proverbial moves on me after he'd bought me a few shots of tequila simply because he has sexy brown eyes, a charming grin, and his last name is Booth?"

"Okay," Booth said, waving his hand at her as he turned away. "You really aren't getting the message here, Bones." He clenched his jaw tight and nearly bit out his next words. "I don't want to hear about my brother, how sexy he is, or any of that fucking shit." He took a deep breath, then turned around again. "And I think we all know about you and tequila, okay? Little Miss I-Don't-Ever-Get-Drunk. I really don't think I want to hear anything about, well, anything you may or may not have done under the influence of tequila. Especially if it involved you swapping bodily fluids with my brother. Okay? So let's fucking drop it, and let's get our sorry asses to the airport so we can take care of Mr. Dangle in the Sunshine State."

"Me and tequila?" Brennan retorted, her nostrils beginning to flare as she ignored Booth's last plea. "What in the hell does that mean?"

"Are you―?" Booth snorted. She continued to stare at him with her arms on both her hips as she waited for a response. At last, he shook his head and clarified with a derisive snort. "You really are fucking dense. The last time you and I went out and drank tequila, you fucking walked out on me and rode off into the night, leaving me sitting there in the rain like a total asshole. So, no, I'm really not interested in hearing about any more of your adventures with Jose Cuervo or any of his fancy agave friends that you and my brother might've had a three-way with last night."

Taking a step towards him, she narrowed her eyes as she said, "Oh, how convenient. That's good, Booth―real good."

"What?" he countered, thrown a bit off kilter by her blithely acrimonious response.

"Here I was thinking you'd blacked out and forgotten that pertinent detail since you haven't brought it up _once _since it happened four and a half goddamn years ago!" she shook her head as the anger continued to radiate off of her. "That's just fucking great. It's perfect, really..._now_, you suddenly remember."

"You're so full of shit, Bones," Booth spat back at her. "You were the one that balked, remember? I was all warmed up and ready to go and knock the fucking ball out of the park with the bases loaded for an awesome grandslam, and you were the one who balked. So don't give me any crap about that. It was a long fucking time ago, and we've got a good thing going here now. So let's just drop it." He narrowed his eyes as he sighed. "Can we go catch an airplane now? Because I'm really not finding this little chat to be particularly enlightening, or short, despite you promising that this would only take a minute. So let's get outta here."

"Oh, no," Brennan snarked with a shake of her head. "We're already here. We're here, have already gone there, and I'm not dropping a goddamn thing."

"This is bullshit," he hissed. "You got something to say to me, Bones? You had a revelation? Or some type of wonderful fucking epiphany? Or whatever the hell kind of eureka moment you had there, Bones? Fine-fucking-dandy. Let's go. I'm all ears. What is it? Just spit it out already. Because we really gotta scoot."

"You're afraid," Brennan suddenly realized. "That's why you didn't follow me that night," she said as she suddenly processed his words.

"Yeah, Bones," he said. "That's it―that's it _exactly_. I'm afraid, okay? But, you want to know what I'm really afraid of? I'm afraid that if we keep this crap up, we're gonna miss the plane."

"Oh, cut this bullshit out, Booth," Brennan said. "Because, I'm not going anywhere, not getting on any goddamn plane until you explain. I didn't balk. I just didn't want a one-night stand with you. You let me go. You let me walk away. And, this is the first time you've mentioned it in almost four and a half years."

"So, wait," he said. "What exactly did you expect me to do? Run after your cab, all Superman-style, in the rain? Wait for another cab and try to follow you, even though I didn't know where you lived? How exactly is this supposed to have worked, this wonderful alternate-universe, hypothetical scenario of yours?"

Laughing with a touch of cynicism coming into her voice, Brennan said, "You had my background file on your desk in the goddamn bullpen at the Hoover. You knew exactly what my home address was. And if you didn't remember it, which I rather doubt, it would've taken you a single phone call to get it if you'd really wanted it."

"_Riiiiight," _he said, nodding, wagging his finger at her. "That's it! That's what I should have done. Drunk off my ass, sitting in a dingy bar in crappy neighborhood, I should have rung up dispatch at the Hoover, and gotten somebody to give my drunk self your address from the file? I'm sure that would have gone over really well with personnel. Or Cullen." He laughed snidely. "That's just the boost my sagging career needed at that point, Bones. Right."

"If you wanted me badly enough, then yes!" Brennan said. "You would've done what you had to do if you really thought what we had could go somewhere like you said. Or, was that just a line to get me into bed like the rest of it?"

Booth sighed in exasperation. "See, I'm still not sure how this is supposed to have worked. So we kissed―a pretty awesome little kiss, I'll admit, okay?―and then when I try to make the move, you go into that cab, and I ran after you, asked you if you were afraid you'd have regrets―which by the way, is kind of a way of saying I was still interested, and then you laughed at me, said, 'That'd never happen,' and then you had the driver pull away." His mouth hung open. "So how's that supposed to have gone differently?"

"I remember what I said," Brennan muttered. "I was trying to encourage you. Fat lot of good that did!"

"Huh," he grunted. "Encouraging me would have been more like, 'Hey, come on in this cab and let's go to my place so we can fuck each other's brains out.' For normal people, that would have been encouragement. Your variant on playing hard-to-get I guess is just a little too subtle for a dumb-ass cop like me to get. Best you save it for brainiacs like your nerd friends, or squid-spooks like Jared. Because dumb, ground-pounding, trigger-pullers like me just don't have the subtlety to roll that way."

"I'm not normal," Brennan countered, her anger and frustration rising. "And, if you can't keep up with me, then maybe I was better off waiting until the right Booth came along and actually got my signals."

"See?" he snorted, even as he felt as if she'd taken a shiv and knifed him in the gut as she spoke. "So it all worked out fine and dandy there, in the end, didn't it?"

Taking a step towards him, her eyes blazing, she closed the space between them. "You really think that little of me?" she muttered. "You really think I have absolutely no class or sense of decorum?" she sputtered. "You really believe that someone like Jared would satisfy me? That he can give me what I want...what I really need?"

Booth stared at her. _What kind of wormhole did I just get sucked into here? _"Look," he said, throwing his hands up. _Speaking of alternate fucking universes—I mean, shit. If she slept with Jared, she should either just fucking come clean about it and call a goddamn spade a spade, or should've kept her mouth the fuck shut so she wouldn't be rubbing my nose in it. And if she didn't—well, then why the fuck are we even having this conversation? _

"I have no idea how we got to this point, but―are you trying to tell me something here, Bones, because if you are, then why don't you try to take the shortest distance between two points and just spit it out. Tell me. Because, I know this doesn't matter to you, but it matters to me―we've got a job to do, which depends on us catching a plane in..." He glanced at his watch again. "Two hours and forty five minutes. So let's get to the point, so we can motor, huh?"

"No," she insisted. "_You_ answer _my _questions. As I've just outlined and summarized the situation, is that what you believe about me?"

_What is this? Fucking twenty questions? _"What? What are you asking me?" _Jesus, Bones. What are you doing here? And, why are you doing it to me? What does it even matter? Fuck. _He shook his head. "I thought you came out here to _tell _me something, not to _ask _me something."

"Do you think I slept with your brother?" she asked, again taking another step towards him. _I can't be that wrong about you_―_I just can't be._ "Do you?"

Booth sighed and looked away as he chewed the inside of his lip. "I don't know what to think," he said. _And to be perfectly frank, I really don't wanna be thinking about any of this shit right now. _He stopped and then amended his mental statement. _Who in the fuck am I kidding? I don't want to think about this shit now or ever. I don't want to think about her and Jared, and what they did or didn't do, or what he did or didn't do to her, or what she did or didn't do to him. Especially when it seems like he got the chance to do those things when that's all I've ever wanted to do to her since I ever set eyes on her. So... _He clenched his fists as he tried to sublimate his anger. _Fuck, Booth. That's not helping. Get a fucking grip._ "But you don't leave me much of a choice here, Bones."

"Why did you bring up the night at the poolhall?" Brennan asked, her voice softening a bit. "Why here? Why now? Four years, and nothing. Why do it now?"

Booth's jaw tightened and he shifted his feet. _Come on, Bones. What's the point of dredging this shit up? I mean, if you're with my brother now...there's no going back even if I might want to...because there's just some lines you can't uncross_, he thought morosely."Why are you getting all shrinky on me here, Bones?" he sighed, some of the anger falling away from his voice. "I thought you were the one who had some big epiphany that you wanted to tell me all about, huh?"

"Stop evading," Brennan told him gently. _Please tell me I'm wrong. Please tell me that I didn't make a mistake falling in love with you. Please. _ "And, answer the damn question, Booth. Why bring that up now?"

He blinked, then turned and stared into the rose garden in the distance. "It was a fork, Bones," he said. "And we passed that fork in the road years ago. And there's no goin' back."

"Bullshit," she retorted. _Oh, God. I was wrong. I was wrong—wasn't I? _ "That's not an answer."

He closed his eyes, sighed, then opened them again. "I figured you learned from that mistake and decided the next time you had a good-looking Booth drinkin' tequila shots with him, you didn't balk. This time you took the swing."

"You think I made the mistake that night?" Brennan said, stepping away from him as she quickly pushed the sadness and panic she felt away and clung to her anger and indignation. She shook her head. "Really? Is that what you think? That this was all my fault?"

"Does it really matter?" he asked, a bit of the exhaustion he felt creeping into his voice. "We're past all that, Bones." He stopped and then tried a different approach. "Look, we've built something here, something really good, and I don't know why you keep trying to dig us in on this one."

"I can't believe this," she muttered. "You...you really don't care...you think that―" She stopped and then lifted her gaze as she sudden thought occurred to her. "Did Cam say something to you?" she asked her partner, her voice full of suspicion.

"What?" he coughed. "I haven't even talked to Cam today. I mean, we talked for like, a minute on the phone, but as soon as I got to the lab, I came to see you. What's going on, Bones?"

Narrowing her eyes, she said, "Did you speak to Cam about me on said phone call?"

"I asked if you were in," he said, confusion clear in his eyes. "That's it. That's all." He stopped as another thought occurred to him. _Does Cam know something about this? Jesus. Am I the last one to know or what? _"Wait―what do you think she said to me about you?"

"Did you two, in any way, discuss anything about me and Jared and us going out last night?" Brennan countered. _Because, if you did, I'm going to have to let the Jeffersonian Board of Trustees that they're going to have to find a new forensic pathologist for the Medico-Legal Lab since I'm going to fucking kill Cam. And God help me they'll never find her body._

"She might've said something offhand about you being out with him last night, but then I hung up. We didn't talk about you, Bones. Or Jared. We talked about the case," Booth said, not certain what words he might say that would set her off again. _Okay, I don't know what the fuck's going on here, but I don't like it..._

"I can't believe this," Brennan snapped, clenching her hands at her side. Shaking her head, she let her eyes dart up to meet his. "Bottom line: two questions."

"Well," he smirked, unable to help joke as the heaviness of the unexpected exchange weighed on him. "I guess that's better than _twenty_."

"Do you regret what didn't happen that night between us?" she blinked as she mentally begged her to give him some sign that she was wrong, and this conversation had just been a grand fuck up catastrophe of mixed signals and misunderstandings. _Come on, Booth. Help me out here. Please_―

Booth was quiet for a moment. _More than you'll ever know_, he wanted to say. But, instead, he took a moment before he swallowed hard and looked away from her before he quietly responded. "You know, Bones―I don't really do 'regret.' It's not productive."

"I should've known," Brennan said as she shook her head and sighed. "Never a straight answer from you." She paused and shook her head again before she took another deep breath.

"Next question," he said, glancing yet again at his watch.

"Do you think that I slept with your brother?"

He hesitated. "You said you didn't sleep," he answered hesitantly. "So I'll take you at your word on that. But I'm not sure you didn't let him charm you into." The image of Jared and Brennan in bed having gratuitously obscene and loud sex again flashed before Booth's eyes, and he again had to fight a wave of nausea and the temptation to rip his own brother's balls off with his bare hands. _I can't do this, Bones. I just can't. _Stopping himself, he shook his head and said, "You know what? I don't want to continue this conversation. I'm heading home to pack, and I'll see you at the airport, alright? I had the FBI travel office email you your itinerary and boarding pass." He turned and took a step towards the door. "I'll see you at the gate."

Shaking her head, as she watched him walk away, she sighed. _He can't be that oblivious or stupid. There's no way I could've fallen in love with a man like that. Ergo, that means he's just being stubborn. And, if there's one thing I definitely know, it's that I can outlast you when it comes to the stubbornness department, Booth. I'm not sure how, yet, but I'll figure something out_.

Glancing at her watch, she realized that she needed to know how much time she actually had―Booth's anal retentiveness about schedules aside. Reaching into her pocket, Brennan took out her phone and scanned the information that contained the travel plans. "Jacksonville?" Brennan muttered. "Oh, no. Hell no. That doesn't make any sense. Why would we fly into Jacksonville? If the body's in Ocala, it makes more sense to go up the interstate from Orlando." She paused as she made another mental connection between Florida and the month of March in her head as she replayed some of Booth's comments about would-be grand slams and balks in her mind. "Hmmm...Florida...March...Orlando. Hmmmm..."

Scrolling through her contacts on her smartphone, she hit a familiar button on the phone and waited until a voice perkily responded.

"Yes, it's Temperance Brennan. I need some help, please. Short-term travel arrangements to Florida. Yes, that's right. Orlando―"

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><p><strong>AN: **_So that's how it begins. _Intrigued yet? __ ::**grins**::

_For those who may feel you've seen part of this chapter before, you aren't going crazy. (Well, you might be, but be that as it may.) A chunk of the foregoing was previously seen, in modified form, in chapter 30 of Lesera128's _"**What I Wish I Could've Said**." _Just a friendly FYI. _

_Alright folks, Pt II will take us to the breathtakingly scenic Ocala National Forest where the fun continues. How the heck is Brennan going to get Booth on the same page as she's apparently on? That mule of a man seems to be braying quite loudly at this point. Well, if you know anything, it's that these_ **dharmasera** pieces_ always end with B&B together. So, the question isn't if, but when and how. _

_You want to know what happens next? Of course you do. Well, then you know how this works. No ticket, no laundry. You've gotta do your part and feed our delicate writer's egos by leaving a review. Let us know how we're doing._

_So, please—don't read and run. _

_Just click that little button down there and tell us your thoughts. _

_Yes, that's the one. You know you want to._

_Thanks!_


	19. 19—That's Not A Rock, Pt II

**A Very Bad Idea**

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><p><strong>By:<strong> dharmamonkey & Lesera128  
><strong>Rated: <strong>M  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>_Ummm, nope, we still don't own anything. We have, however, apparently become squatters in the sandbox that we crashed... so, umm... yeah. So there we go..._

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><p><strong>AN: **_This is probably a good time to remind people of the following (even though we know we've said it before): we try to keep both Booth and Brennan as consistent as possible in their characterizations. However, at times, we stretch those characterizations as much as we can without going too far beyond the pale. There's one tiny detail to be revealed in this scenario that people may say that would never happen. Our response: well, yeah—maybe, maybe not. Who's to say? In either case, notes saying B&B seem out-of-character are not necessary since there is no characterization here beyond what is needed to create this bit of unfness. Otherwise, bon appetit!_

****Unf Alert: ****_Yes, people. This story will include unfness. Yep, that kind, just like the other VBI scenarios did. If you don't like that kind of thing, we wonder (a) why the heck you put this story on alert, and (b) why you're still reading this A/N and not hitting that browser back button already. If you dig the unfness, then read on, our friends. Read on._

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><p><strong>V. That's Not A Rock, Part II<strong>

**Pertinent Details on Scenario #5****: **Set during the episode 4x09: "Con Man in the Methlab."

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><p>It was quite a pleasant morning considering the fact that it was early March in the beautiful state of Florida. The weather was a mild 68 degrees Fahrenheit, and Brennan felt quite comfortable as she got out of the State of Florida Forestry Division park ranger's white pickup truck in which she'd ridden to the crime scene from the ranger's station in Marion County. She'd arrived in Orlando the day before, and after braving the lines at Orlando International Airport, the limo that her publicist had reserved had taken her from OIA to Disney so that she could check into her suite at the Grand Floridian. Having been on the phone from practically the moment she landed, Brennan had talked with a slew of officials and persons of importance who wanted to know if she could 'spare a few moments' at some point in her visit.<p>

It was because of one of those fans that Brennan had actually gotten from where her hotel was in Orange County approximately seventy miles north to the site of the body in Marion County, near the city of Ocala. Brennan's last-minute travel plans had apparently frazzled the FBI who had wanted the case to go through the Jacksonville field office. Although technically located at the southernmost boundaries of the Jacksonville Division, by flying into Orlando, Brennan had technically involved the Tampa Division that covered the majority of the Central Florida region. Fortunately, a friend of the Jacksonville agent assigned who happened to live in the Orlando area had offered to drive Brennan up the Florida Turnpike to I-75 where she was supposed to meet with Booth―who'd been inexplicably detained in D.C. and hadn't even managed to make the very flight he'd all but walked out on Brennan and their unfinished conversation to catch despite having claimed it was _critical _that they make that flight. A terse series of text messages had indicated that Booth had caught another flight into Jax very early that morning and was in route.

However, since there was no need to rush, Brennan had enjoyed a rather delicious breakfast at one of the hotel's many restaurants in between fielding the various phone calls that kept draining her once fully-charged cell phone. Once she'd met up with her ride, they'd taken a leisurely drive up so that Brennan knew she probably wasn't that far ahead of Booth―or, at least she hoped she wasn't since she didn't really like processing federal crime scenes without him. Another text message from him about an hour before indicated he was 'somewhere between Ocala and hell', and he said he should be meeting her shortly. Brennan had waited for a time at the ranger's station once she'd arrived in Marion County before some of the local personnel had gotten antsy and suggested that they head to the site before they 'lost the best light.'

After they arrived at the site, Brennan got out of the truck and stretched her back. She wasn't dressed in her normal Jeffersonian field suit, but in a bit more casual-wear that was really more in line with what she wore when in the field on an anthropological site. She wore her standard khaki cargo pants and black rubber-soled field boots. Flexing her toes within the boots, she gave off a soft sigh at how good the shoes felt.

_I don't know what I'm going to do now that Sketchers has discontinued this particular style_, Brennan mentally sighed. _I've grown used to wearing this particular brand and style. I suppose I should just be happy that I was able to find one last new pair in my size on the discontinued shoe website that I did. But, even still_―_I've been wearing the same type of field boot since I was a first-year Master's student. I really don't like change. Now, I guess I'm going to have to find a new boot, but not for a while...at least._

Flexing her toes one last time, Brennan exhaled another breath before she reached up and adjusted the ballcap she was wearing. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail that stuck out through a red brimmed and navy blue ballcap. She smiled as she thought of what the design and logo on the cap signified. As she reached into the truck to retrieve her messenger bag, she felt her black sunglasses slip down the bridge of her nose. She quickly pushed them back before she grabbed the bag and smoothed the long-sleeve white button down shirt that she wore over a thick-strapped cotton-ribbed purple tank top.

Shutting the door behind her, she nodded to her guide and said, "I'm ready when you are, Ranger Tobin."

"It's about a quarter-mile walk this way," an older man with grey hair said as he pointed down a well-worn path that was cut through the hard-packed mud and dried knee-high grass. "Down the path and to the left at the fork―a couple of cattle ranchers found it."

"Is it still in the tree?" Brennan asked as she fell into step next to the ranger who was already on the move in the direction which he'd just indicated the body laid. "Because, I―"

Suddenly, Brennan was cut off as the pair heard the approaching rumble of another SUV coming down the dirt road that Brennan knew connected to the main park road. A familiar-looking model of black SUV slowly came into sight and a horn blew a couple of times letting the pair know they'd been spotted. Brennan's eyes narrowed as the truck came to a stop a few feet away from where the park ranger's vehicle had been. She watched in curiosity as two individuals―one very familiar―slowly stepped out of the car.

_Ahh, perfect timing as usual, Booth_, Brennan thought, forcing herself not to smile at the arrival of her partner, despite the fact that she felt a pleasing warmth at seeing him once again. _I was wondering when you were going to turn up. _She stopped, looked down at the ground, and bit her lip to keeping from letting the large smile that was about to crack her face from doing so. _I've spent two days waiting for you. Heh. Now, we're going to see which one of us can be more stubborn_―_because...you know what? I think it's me. I think I can outlast that stubborn, egotistical, bull-headed tunnel vision of yours long enough to make you see reason. Because, this thing between us is only going to end one way...and it's not with either one of us watching the other walk away again. No_―_not at all._

For his part, once the SUV in which he'd been riding came to a stop, Booth climbed out of the passenger seat and shook out his legs. Though he smiled as he made eye contact with his partner and nodded to acknowledge her presence, he felt a half-shade better than death warmed over. _Why are you smiling there, Bones, huh? You look pretty damn happy. It can't be just because you're out here in the woods wearing something other than that stifling ballistic nylon Jeffersonian jumpsuit—though with the humidity like this and the temperature pushing seventy, I think I'd be pretty psyched to be wearing anything but that damn thing. _He narrowed his eyes and saw the slightly crooked smile on her lips, and he felt the bile rise in his throat. _She's still wearing that look—that freshly-fucked, shit-eatin' grin on her face...and after two days. That asshole. I swear, if she so much as says his goddamn name, I'm gonna go friggin' orbital here._

He'd taken the first available flight down from Washington into Jacksonville―not the flight he'd wanted to take, after being waylaid after getting the text from Jared―took a long and expensive cab ride to the FBI Field Office in Jacksonville, met up with the assigned local Special Agent, McCann, then drove four hours south to the crime scene along the western edge of the Ocala National Forest. Unlike Brennan, whose drive up from Orlando was much more direct―an easy two-hour shot up the Florida Turnpike to I-75―Booth and McCann had to endure the long, undivided Florida state highway 301. The infamous road ran southwest from Jacksonville, through Gainesville, and a seemingly endless series of extremely rural Florida towns where the scenery consisted of dense woods, thickets of saw palmetto, cattle grazing in clearings behind poorly-maintained barbwire fences, and every few miles, a local town cop or sheriff's deputy parked along the side of the road with a radar gun, collecting tolls on unsuspecting out-of-towners just innocently passing through. AAA had even gone so far as to take out billboards warning motorists about to embark any significant portion of the road about the notorious speed traps.

Booth had endured the long drive sitting in the passenger seat, watching the scenery roll by as they made their way through what McCann had referred to as "marry-your-sister Florida." The local agent explained that Ocala National Forest was a fairly large federal space―over 600 square miles―and was a longtime part of the FBI's Florida jurisdiction, having been established in 1908. Its pristine lands consisted of a mix of dry scrub habitat, pine forests, cypress swamp along the edges of the two rivers that ran through it―the St. John's (which, Booth noted, was like the Monongahela River that ran through the middle of Pittsburgh, a north-flowing waterway) and the Ocklawaha―and the countless small alligator-infested lakes that dotted the forests. Not unlike other national parks and forests, Ocala seemed to have more than its fair share of body dumps and John/Jane Does that cropped up from time to time, often enough that the Florida Department of Law Enforcement's cold case web page seemed to be devoted almost entirely to the long-languished, quickly forgotten dead whose critter-nibbled, skeletonized remains were stumbled on by hikers or kayakers. It wasn't quite as bad as the Everglades, but bad enough.

The particular location for this find fell along the somewhat vaguely-defined boundary between the national forest and a sprawling state forest, although the staties seemed quite insistent―surprisingly so―that this body was on federal land and thus the case fell squarely within federal jurisdiction. Booth found this degree of state cooperation a bit suspicious. _There's always a reason when the staties don't wanna touch one of these_, he grumbled silently to himself as McCann passed what Booth figured was the fiftieth roadside stand selling 'Fresh Florida Strawberries - Smoked Mullet - Tomatoes - Boiled Peanuts' out of the back of a beat-up old Ford pickup truck. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand as he realized that he might well have gotten suckered into responding to this case just so that FDLE didn't have to add Mr. Dangle to their long list of cold-case John Does whose bones turned up in Ocala.

The only redeeming feature of the drive down from Jax was the food. McCann began their explanation of some of the lesser known, but 'completely kickass real Florida eateries' with an excellent roadside barbecue stand he and Booth had stopped at along the way, which Booth had to admit was probably the best, tenderest beef brisket he'd ever eaten. In addition to the brisket, he'd gorged himself on pork slathered in the house's speciality secret spicy-sweet sauce along with generous portions of baked mac and cheese and freshly deep corn griddle cakes. Then, about an hour later, McCann had pulled into a Mom & Pop operation just outside of Waldo that he promised served the best homemade donuts in twelve Florida counties. Approximately thirty minutes after they'd arrived and procured a box of Grandma Minnie's homemade glazed donuts, steaming warm since they'd come straight out of Grandma Minnie's kitchen and into McCann and Booth's greedy little hands―Booth had scarfed down three in fairly short order―he was willing to concede McCann's choice in Florida eats wasn't too shabby. However, after two more hours sitting in the passenger seat of McCann's FBI-issue SUV, the ice had long since melted in Booth's iced tea, the sticky sweet smell of the cold glazed donuts was making him slightly nauseous, and he was in a fairly cranky mood.

As Brennan looked up at him, raising her hand to the brim of her baseball cap, she smiled at McCann as she said, "Good afternoon, Agent McCann." She took a step towards him and nodded. "It's good to finally meet you in person."

"Likewise, Dr. Brennan, likewise," Special Agent Tom McCann said with a smile. "I trust your ride up from Orlando was comfortable?"

"Very," she responded. "Thank you once again for making those arrangements for me. I know you went a bit out of your trouble to assist me with my change in travel plans."

"Not at all, Dr. Brennan, not at all. Agent Jasper said he thoroughly enjoyed the conversation you had this morning when I spoke to him on the phone, so it looks like it was a win-win situation for everyone involved," McCann told her.

"Yes, well, he's quite knowledgeable about the human skeleton," Brennan admitted. "We had a very intriguing conversation about osteology and how the popular media portrays such issues in the entertainment industry today."

Booth watched the exchange with mildly feigned interest. _Oh please, _he groaned silently, doing everything he could to avoid rolling his eyes. _Is this how squints flirt? 'Hey, there baby, what'd you think about that little reference to the distal radius in the new Mark Wahlberg movie?' What the fuck. Seriously, Bones? Since when did you get this sparkly and happy-go-lucky sitting in the car driving through the backroads of east-bumfuck with an FBI guy? Wait, don't answer that._

As she spoke, she could feel Booth's eyes on her. _Hmmm, do I finally have his attention now or what? _Brennan wondered. _Because we're never going to get to where we need to be unless I've got his attention. I suppose it's better to be safe then sorry though, so the proverb goes. So, just to be certain...perhaps it's time to annoy him just a little bit to make certain he isn't distracted._ Pleased with her decision, Brennan finally looked over at her partner. She made a show of glancing at her watch before she tilted her head and finally verbally acknowledged him, making a small frown as she did so, before she said, "You're late."

"Yeah?" Booth snorted. "Well, I'm here, alright?"

The annoyance that rang out so clearly in Booth's voice made the small smile that Brennan had had difficulty containing at his mere arrival seem quite little in comparison. _Perfect_, she thought as a swirl of pleasure at her partner's clear aggravation gave her hope that perhaps her plan would be just as successful as she so desperately hoped it would be. _Just perfect. _

For a split second, Brennan realized she'd allowed her gaze to linger just a bit _too _long on her partner's visage. Knowing that the next part of her scheme wouldn't work as well if they had an audience, Brennan instead focused on the practical issue of finally getting an explanation as to why Booth had missed the plane he'd been so dead set about not missing.

"Why were you delayed?" she asked, as she tilted her head and waited for him to answer.

_Because I was bailing your new boyfriend out of another one of his own dumbass disasters_, Booth wanted to say._ Because I'm the responsible one, and I've got to take care of Jared when he fucks up, because that's my job as the big brother and that's what I've always done_. Instead, he merely shook his head as his wrinkled and his earlier grimace turned to a scowl.

"I don't want to talk about it," he replied pulling a pen and a short stack of index cards out of his jacket pocket. "So, I assume since you've had such a head start on me that you've got this hangman situation all figured out here, right, Bones?"

"Not quite," she responded, her lips thinning as she spoke. "We just got here―"

"Oh?" Booth asked with an arched eyebrow.

"Yes," Brennan responded with a nod, but offering no further explanation as to why she hadn't made as much progress as Booth had anticipated her early arrival in Florida would give her on the case.

"Huh," he responded. _So, maybe I'm not quite as useless as you think I am, huh, Bones? _he responded. "And, here I was thinking you wouldn't need me, and you'd already have thing all wrapped up."

_Oh, I need you, _Brennan thought, as she noticed the way his casual attire―a French blue button down shirt with the top two buttons undone, a well-worn light gray T-shirt underneath, tucked into a pair of snug-fitting acid-washed jeans, over which he wore a black FBI windbreaker―made him look even more physically attractive than when she'd last seen him. _I need you, all right. And, I can think of about a dozen things that I __definitely__ need you to do for me...or, even better, to me. _

"No," she finally managed to tell him, eventually abrogating her more prurient thoughts just for the short amount of time it would take to assess the crime scene and evaluate the remains. "Not quite," she said. "I haven't even seen the remains yet."

"Then, I don't suppose you know what's the story, then?" he inquired.

"Not anymore than what you've read in the case file," Brennan told him.

"We were just heading to where the body's still hanging in the tree," the park ranger who'd driven Brennan said as he interrupted the pair and took the opportunity to nod at Booth. "I'm Jack Tobin, a park ranger with the Florida Division of Forestry," he introduced himself to Booth with a firm handshake. "We're consulting with the FBI since this the body was found on a piece of land that borders the Withalacoochee State Forest―"

"Of course," McCann chimed in with a knowing look. "The boundaries of the state forest are still in no way contiguous to this piece of land, Jack."

"True," Tobin admitted. "But, as you well know, Tom, if Florida's Secretary of the Interior has his way, they might just be one day in the not too distant future, which is why I'm here and was just about to take Dr. Brennan to the site. We've still got about a quarter-mile walk to go."

McCann shot Tobin one final look that made it clear that the state versus federal competition for forestry lands seemed unusually well-developed in this area. However, he remained quiet as he conceded that Tobin probably knew the terrain better than he did―federal jurisdiction or not.

After Booth watched the byplay with mild interest, he couldn't help himself as he realized how strange the name of the state forest sounded. "Width-along-coochie what?" Booth muttered under his breath. _It's like that case I did that one time with the Dallas Field Office in Waxahachie. I mean, Waxa-what? That sure sounds an awful lot like 'wax your hoochie,' which was reason enough in my mind never to live there, even if the FBI offers me a job there as Special-Agent-in-Charge. Of course, if I were Jared, the fact that the town sounds like an easy play to get laid would probably be the deciding factor in me taking the job. Jesus, sometimes I can't believe we were born to the same parents_―

Brennan watched as she saw Booth becoming lost in his own thoughts.

After a minute, his frown again returned, and it caused Brennan to feel concern.

_What's going on with you, Booth? _Brennan wondered. _Come on, now...how do you expect me to tell you what I really need to tell you if you've got other things you're thinking about? Hmmmm...maybe we just need a minute._

Her decision made, Brennan gestured to McCann and Tobin. "We'll follow you," Brennan said as she nodded at the two other men, cutting Booth off before he had a chance to respond to the park ranger. Perhaps because of the firmness of Brennan's tone, the other two men didn't wait for even a minute before they both nodded and began walking down the hard-packed grass path.

Booth shot Brennan a look, shook his head, and then began to follow the other two men. _What is up with you, Bones? Somebody's been spiking the orange hi-c juicebox in your Happy Meal. If you think your chipper little mood is gonna rub off on me here, you can forget it. In fact, why don't you just leave me the fuck alone, alright? _

"What?" she asked, as she fell into step next to Booth. "What's wrong?"

Booth spared a quick glance at his partner, then shook his head, and looked back down at the ground. "I said I didn't want to talk about it," he grumbled, noting how his hiking boots made a soft crunching sound with each step he trod over the dried grass and coarse dirt that was so dry from the lack of rain during Florida's dry season that the light grey loamy material could almost be considered a type of sand.

Brennan frowned a bit as she waited for Booth to say something more. When he didn't, she pressed. "Obviously," she said. "You're bothered by something. So, come on―what is it?"

"Look," he said, stopping to emphasize his point. "I said I don't want to talk about it, okay?"

"Booth, look, we both know it's better if we can approach this case with a clear focus, and I can't do that if you're brooding in a corner threatening to shoot park rangers since squints are in short supply on this trip," Brennan began.

"I don't brood!" Booth snapped. When he realized how loud his tone of voice was, he sighed and lowered it as he repeated the statement. "That is, I don't brood."

Brennan had to keep herself from rolling her eyes and snorting at the ludicrousness of that particular statement. Afraid they'd get distracted if she said anything that addressed that particular statement, and not wanting to let him wiggle his way out of telling her what was wrong, she continued, "It's not productive when one of us is too distracted when we're so far afield on a case like this one, Booth. So, whether you like it or not, you need to tell me what's wrong so you can get it out into the open and then we can get on with things. Now, what is it?"

He stared at her for a minute, seeming to consider her words. She watched as he struggled with the choice of not telling her and the persistent pain-in-the-ass partner he'd have to deal with if he didn't or if he could get her to at least shut up by telling her a bit of the truth.

_It's not possible he's still worked up over what we talked about before he stalked off at the Jeffersonian_, Brennan reasoned. _He wouldn't have missed a flight for work because of that. Still, what else could it be?_

As she contemplated her choices, and added Booth's brooding silence to the equation, Brennan at last realized she needed to say _something _if she was going to get him to talk to her. And, with a lack of any other choices, she sighed and decided that now was as good a time as any to remind Booth that their previous conversation wasn't done by a long shot just because he wanted it to be so.

Tilting her head, she narrowed her eyes at him and said, "I assume that now that you've had some time and distance to rationally consider the earlier points I made before we left D.C. that you aren't still upset by our last conversation, are you?"

Booth took a breath and sighed, his hands on his hips as he glanced over his shoulder at the fading forms of McCann and Tobin, who by then were nearly out of earshot. "It's not about that, okay?" he growled. "It's not about..." _You know, I really, really, really don't want to discuss that conversation with you. I said I would go orbital if I so much as heard his name, and now you've got me talking about him. Fuck. You know what? I kinda wish I could go back in time and brush twenty-minutes' worth of mental white-out on the whole thing because I'd really just like to pretend the whole damn conversation didn't happen. Hmmmm. Maybe I can just white out all of the last week. That'd be just fine with me. _"I don't want to talk about that, okay?" He looked at her nonplussed expression. "It's Jared, alright?" He shook his head and sighed again. "He got pulled over for DUI, and―well, he called me because he was afraid that a dooey would mess up his Navy gig, so he called me to help, and I missed the flight." He glanced over at the other agent and the park ranger. "So, I'm sorry I was late, but can we just get on with things, since ya know, that's it." He sighed one more time before adding a bit sullenly, "I just really don't want to talk about it anymore, okay?"

"But―"

"No," he said with another shake of his head. "That's it. I told you. So, it's done. Now, let's go before we lose them since the last thing I want to happen to me today is getting lost in some dumbass part of a national forest, okay? I'm not really sure what could happen that would be worse, but I don't want to find out."

Brennan pursed her lips and shook her head in response. "I think―"

"Wait," he gestured at her with his hand. "Stop."

"What?" she asked, mildly confused.

"Is this about the case or my brother?" he asked.

"It's not about the case," Brennan began. "But―"

"Nope," he said, fervently shaking his head. "I told you, I don't want to hear anymore about my baby brother today, Bones, with the emphasis on baby. Enough." He turned away with a hard glare and continued to walk down the trail.

_This is not how I envisioned spending my vacation, tramping through the woods with you, Bones. I should be on a beach in Hawaii, one of those nice beaches with the crazy palm trees with the wacky trunks that grow almost sideways, the palm fronds brushing up against the ground in the breeze. Yeah, that's where I should be, drinking pina coladas out of a pineapple served by a hot Polynesian girl in a grass skirt that wouldn't slap me when I appreciatively oogled how her mega awesome ta-tas were almost spilling out of her way too skimpy bikini top. Maybe she'd get a bit flirty with me, and then one thing leads to another, and then it's not just pina coladas she's serving me. And, hell, I've never been much for tennis, but I'd be more than happy to return her serves from that point, huh? Mmmmph. Yeah. Because we all know that would be sure as hell better than this shit. _

This time it was Brennan's turn to sigh as she shook her head and continued on after Booth's hastily retreating form. Once again, she fell into step next to him. For once, Brennan remained silent, and thus she was somewhat surprised when it wasn't her who broke the heavy silence that was developing between the pair.

After a minute, Booth looked over to his partner and pointed at her hat. "So, uhhh, what's it with the ballcap there, Bones?" he smirked.

"When it's this sunny out, you know it's best to wear some type of protective headgear," Brennan replied. "Why? I've worn hats before on cases. It shouldn't be a surprise to you."

"Hats, no, but a Major League Baseball cap?" Booth chuckled. "What―did you forget your pith helmet and the Bravos ballcap was the only headgear the hotel giftshop had or something?"

"I'll have you know that this is _my _hat," Brennan countered. "As in, I brought it with me from D.C. specifically for this trip."

"Huh," Booth snickered. "You owning a Braves cap. Yeah, right. I'm sure. You probably don't even know who they are, let alone what they play."

"The Atlanta Braves have been that city's National League MLB team since 1966," Brennan promptly told him. "Prior to that, their home was city of Milwaukee between 1953 and 1965, during which they won their only World Series pennant in 1957, that is, of course, before their second victory during the 1995 season when they beat the Cleveland Indians in six games. Of course, the franchise history goes all the way back to the Boston in the 1870s and 1880s, but why quibble over the details?"

Brennan watched, somewhat pleased, as she saw Booth's jaw open in outright and dumbfounded surprise.

_Holy shit. She knows about baseball. Awww, jeez, _he thought._ There she goes again. Surprising me again. Next thing she's gonna tell me she's been a lifelong Bravos fan. Yeah, right._

"What?" she finally asked, her eyes sparkling in merriment as she took in the first part of her plan coming to fruition. _He's not even going to know what hit him_, she thought with delight.

"Seriously?" he finally sputtered. "I mean, really? The Braves? The Cubbies, yeah―that I can see since you're from Chicago and all. Maybe the ChiSox, but that...I mean, you don't even like sports. According to you, aren't sports just lameass war-games for pseudo-alpha male warrior wannabes?" He paused and then added in annoyed confusion, "Why are you wearing a baseball cap anyway?"

Narrowing her eyes, Brennan said, "It's March, Booth. We're in Florida." She stared at him in expectation with an arched eyebrow. "You do the math."

"Oh, right," he snarked. "What do you know about spring training, Bones?" he asked her.

"Grapefruit League," she said instantly before she let a small smile crack her face. "Why do you think I flew into OIA?"

Booth grumbled, his back still sore from the long drive down from Jacksonville. "Maybe because you knew the trip down from Jax was gonna suck?"

"No," Brennan said with a sharp shake of her head. _Ha! I knew it. I just knew it. I knew he wouldn't be able to resist it if I brought baseball into things. God, Booth, do I know you or what? So, you can take that daffodil-daisy-Jupiter and shove it, heh. _"My suite is booked at the Grand Floridian―and, actually, when I checked in yesterday, the concierge was quite helpful and was able to procure myself a ticket at the Wide World of Sports for the 1:05 game the day after tomorrow."

Booth frowned again at hearing the reference to a fancy hotel, the cost of which would course would be billed on a cost-plus basis to the FBI―the invoice for which he would inevitably be required to sign off on only rubbing salt in the proverbial wound after the fact when he was once again reminded of the fact of how much his hotel had sucked compared to hers―while he was stuck at a Holiday Inn Express off of Interstate 4 in Haines City because some kind of huge realtors' convention had all the 'in-policy' hotels booked between Kissimmee and Deland. _I'm not even in an Orlando zipcode, let alone the same county that she's in. Awww, fuck_. Then, his mental fog lifted and his eyes narrowed. "Wait―what?" he coughed. "You bought tickets to a baseball game? Are you feeling alright?" He paused and nibbled the inside of his lip before he slyly asked, "Who's playing?"

"Don't start with me," she told him. _Okay, start with me. I really, __really__ want you to start with me. Heh heh. _ "And, yes, I have box seats. Braves versus Pirates." She stopped and then added, "Why do you think I booked those extra days in my calendar? It wasn't because I thought the case would take this long. It seems pretty open and shut to me from the file."

"Braves-Pirates?" He shook his head as he considered her answer. "Where's Willie Stargell when you need him, huh?" He narrowed his eyes to see if she'd catch the reference. "Pirates have basically sucked since the latter half of the Carter administration. But―that said, I might be willing to join you, because..well, like you said. It's March in Florida, and baseball is baseball, after all."

"Who said you're even invited?" Brennan said, leveling a seemingly innocent stare at him. "Besides, don't you dare try to play the who's worse card. Everyone knows that but for one tiny blip of hope during one of Dale Murphy's last years, the 80's Braves were the worst in the National League for pretty much the entire decade."

"Come on, Bones," he sighed, very much aware of how much his sigh sounded a bit too much like a whine for his liking. "Even people from Pittsburgh don't root for the Pirates. Because, ya know, everyone has their limit, and well...the Pirates can try the patience and loyalty of a friggin' saint."

"So, by correlation, I'm assuming that neither do people from Philadelphia. Ergo, there's no reason why you'd want to go to a Pirates game. So, we're good then," Brennan said, enjoying their slightly relaxed banter.

Booth held his hand up. "Whoa―now, hold on there," he said. "First, I grew up in Pittsburgh―well, until high school, that is. But second, baseball is baseball, Bones. It's the national past time, and it's my patriotic duty as a red-blooded American to join you at that game, no matter who's playing."

"Oh, really?" Brennan smirked slightly. "I was unaware of that finer point."

"It's in the fine print of every American's birth certificate, I swear," Booth nodded solemnly. "And, besides, like I said, as the national past time―"

"I'm well aware of the national past time, Booth," Brennan said dryly. "I've been watching games since before I could walk."

Booth's forehead crinkled in surprise. "Seriously?" he asked, turning around and stopping mid-stride as he stared at her.

"From March to October, Max was only into two things...science and baseball," Brennan explained. "We spent the second half of each school year doing homework to the dulcet sounds of gameplay on WGN each night. He's the diehard Cubs' fan, by the way."

"So why are you wearing a Braves cap, Bones?" he asked, a confused look still on his face as he thought about her explanation.

Sensing that he had stopped walking, Brennan paused and turned around. "Because I'm a Braves fan?" She stopped and then added with a smile, "I believe the correct euphemism here is...'duh', right, Booth?"

Booth rolled his eyes. "I may not have a Ph.D., Bones, but my deductive reasoning skills are sharp enough that I managed to figure that one out. What my question really is when did you, the daughter of a devoted Cubbies fan, morph into a Braves fan?"

"I told you...Max is the Cubs fan. Russ is the Sox fan. Since the two of them had the Illinois market covered, that didn't leave me a lot of choices," Brennan said. "But, to answer your question...I morphed into a Braves fan when I was about ten for two reasons. One, I liked the symmetry of Harry Carey's son working for the Atlanta Braves broadcasting team, and two, the games were always on TBS no matter what when I was growing up. I could always watch them whenever I could still the remote from my dad and flip the channel from 12 to 20." She stopped and smiled as she remembered the many times her mother had to intervene with her father to get Brennan what Christine had called 'equitable viewing time'. "Plus..." Brennan added, "I liked that it annoyed my dad."

"So it's not just me that you get such great joy out of pissing off, huh?" he retorted, arching an eyebrow at her before she shot him a strange look that caused him quickly to move his eyes to his feet.

_Hmmm, _Brennan thought. _If I didn't know any better, I'd almost say you were flirting with me, Booth. But, that can't be...so, no. Heh._

Booth was quiet for a few seconds before he said, "So, umm, about that spring training game, ahhh...I know you wouldn't have possibly have bought tickets to Thursday's game without buying one more me. Nah, I must have misunderstood you there, 'cause there's no way you didn't intend to invite me to join you, right?" This time he sought out Brennan's eyes and leveled a questioning stare at her. "Because you know there's no person you'd rather spend the day with at the ballpark than, you know, me."

"Why not?" Brennan asked, crossing her arms. _Of course, I'm going to take you to the game, but I'm not telling you that until we get a few other things straight first._

"Well, I believe the correct euphemism here is 'duh', Bones," he smirked at her as he threw her words back at her. She rolled her eyes at him this time. He then added, "Fine. Then how about this? I hope that's not what you're telling me because if it is, that'd be a pretty shitty thing to do there, Bones."

_There you go again, _Brennan couldn't help but silently complain. _There you go thinking the worst of me. God, Booth, _she sighed in mental exasperation. Deciding to return his ribbing a bit in kind, Brennan told him, "You can't come to the game with me because you'll need the extra time to complete the case paperwork," Brennan said. "I'd planned to attend myself...both the game at Disney on Thursday and the away game I'll be seeing in Clearwater the following day when there's a split squad that's playing."

"Wait," he said. "Clearwater? That's where my boys, the Phillies, have their spring training!" He narrowed his eyes again. "Wait, you didn't―you didn't buy tickets to the Phillies-Braves game and not get one for me? Because that would be atrociously shitty if you did that, Bones. Seriously―completely and totally atrociously shitty."

_You know, Booth, out of all the games I could go to, why would I want to drive all the way over to Clearwater for a split squad when I could just see a second game at Disney if this was just about the game? Of course, I bought them for you. But, I'm not telling you that until you tell me that you believe me about what I said didn't happen with Jared so that I can tell you what I need to tell you about how I feel. Then, we can spend a delicious amount of time seeing how compatible we really are sexually in that very, very large king-sized bed in my hotel suite. But_―_not before you believe me about Jared._

"It's beyond the pale there, really," he said as he shook his head. "I mean, seriously―what's gotten into you lately, Bones?"

"Me?" Brennan responded in surprise. "There's nothing wrong with me."

"Oh, yeah there is," Booth retorted. "You never would've done something so bitchy like go to a Braves-Phillies game and not take me with you before my brother got into you―"

As soon as he'd said the words, Booth realized the Freudian slip he made. He paled a bit as Brennan's eyes widened in clear surprise.

"I know you did not just say what I think you said," Brennan finally managed to tell him. "So, you better tell me I didn't hear what I think I heard."

"Why?" Booth muttered. "It's not like it's not true."

"Really?" Brennan snapped. "We're really back to this?"

"Did you get me a ticket?" Booth asked point blank.

Feeling a surge of anger, Brennan pursed her lips before she said, "No, I didn't," she told him with narrowed eyes suddenly feeling the desire to lie at the anger his stubborn refusal to believe her had stoked in her. "And, I'm glad I didn't since someone hasn't learned his lesson about making atrociously shitty comments to me about where I was on Saturday night." She stopped, trying to cloak some of the hurt she was feeling at his assumption by trying to hurt him as she said spitefully, "I'm sure there are probably some of the bleacher seats still available at Bright House Networks Field since it's just a split squad game if you want to try to get one."

"Aww, come on, Bones!" he scowled at her. "That's bullshit. Complete and utter total epic bullshit! You know how much I like the Phillies. Man, this sucks. Fuck." Booth then turned away from her, clearly sulking.

_God, you can be such a child at times, Booth_, Brennan silently chided him. _Now, if you'd just quite being stubborn about Jared and believe me when I tell you what is, ironically, the blatant truth, then you could stop doing that thing you're doing so well over there by pouting_—_even if you are pretty damn attractive when you're doing it. Hmmm...maybe we can see if I can get you to stop being so dense about this particular topic? _

As if drawn to him like a moth to a brightly dancing finger of flame, Brennan took a step towards him and lightly tapped her index finger on his back. "Perhaps," she said, her voice low as she spoke. "If you don't like those particular set of outcomes, you should think about what the possible consequences of doing something so particularly asinine as not believing me when I'm telling you the truth, okay, Booth?"

His back muscles tightened for a tense moment before he quickly stepped away from her and spun around so that he was once more looking directly into her eyes._ Jesus, _he cursed silently. _What the hell are you doing? This isn't...no...this can't be happening. No...maybe I should be drinking some more water. Because it's getting a bit warm out here, and I'm sweating a little. Maybe I'm getting a little dehydrated, and I think that's why I'm starting to feel a little woozy here. _He furrowed his brow as he saw the determined look in her eyes. _Now, cut it the fuck out. I don't want you fucking touching me with those hands...not when I know where they've been. Not when I know where I'd wish they hadn't been. Not when I would really have wished they'd been someplace else for all this time but...but no...we're not gonna go there, huh?_

"What do you think I don't believe you about now, Bones?" he asked, trying to blank his voice of any emotion or expression and knowing the moment his mouth closed how futile that effort had been.

"Same thing as last time," she said, not letting him intimidate her into looking away. "You remember—the whole thing about you accusing me of something like sleeping with your brother?"

"You know what?" he huffed as she crossed her arms in a clear message that said she wasn't going to cave on this particular issue to him. Her stubbornness only infuriated him more. _Why...__why__ do you have to be like this? How many times in how many different times do I have to say it? I don't care about you and Jared and whatever stupid fucking pseudo-hot monkeysex you thought you had with him. I don't want to hear it, and if you keep bringing it up, I'm gonna get even more pissed off than I am now. So, cut it out! _ "Forget it. I'll find a way to amuse myself somehow. You go ahead and amuse yourself, since you clearly don't need my help in that department." _I mean, what? Don't tell me that the reason you're not taking me to the Phillies game is because...what? Are you flying Jared down? Are you going to go to the game with him in between epic fuckfests in that goddamn luxury hotel suite of yours where you think he's doing such a fine-fuckin'-dandy time of fucking you silly? Seriously? _ The more the thoughts bounced around his head, the more angry Booth became. Shaking his head, he said, "You know what? Whatever, Bones, what-the-fuck-ever. But, just so you know―I'm not doing your damn paperwork for you, okay? It'll be waiting for you. Maybe you can make use of the time on the flight home."

"Of course, you're the one who pointed out the fact that you always have a docket of active cases that are simultaneously going on at any one time, and as such, you're the one who has to sign off on the final case report," Brennan quickly countered as she realized that he was becoming more and more angry. _God, why are you being such a stupid, brainless, typical...alpha male! _

"I'm not doing your work for you," he threw back at her, leveling an angry stare in her direction.

"I've never asked you to," Brennan suddenly snapped, becoming a tad bit annoyed at the thinly veiled slight on her professionalism. "I never have, and I never will. I know how to do my job, thanks very much, Booth. And, just for the record, it'll take me two hours max to write up the forensics portions of my initial assessment. You, however, get to complete the paperwork on the inter-agency contributions of the Jacksonville Field Office, the Florida State Division of Forestry, and about three other organizations whose representatives that I've been introduced to since I got here. So, like I said, you're the one who's going to need the extra time, not me...and since we both know which one of us procrastinates on paperwork, I guess it's a damn good thing I've made other plans to amuse myself while you'll be busy." She paused and then said, "Don't worry, I'll have an extra large beer at the game and toast you by name when the Braves score against the starting pitcher, who I believe is scheduled to be Cole Hamels." She tilted her head and then said, "It should be a good game. I'll send you a photo via text if you want when Hudson smashes the Phillies' offense in the first two innings."

Booth narrowed his eyes and thumbed through his mental Rolodex of possible responses. _Stuff it, Bones. Drop dead, Bones. Go fuck yourself, Bones. _Finally, he settled on none of them lest the two of them get into a knock down drag out argument in front of the Florida officials. _Like I really need that fucking headache. Thanks, but no fucking thanks. _"Whatever," he grumbled. However, after a minute, Booth realized that he couldn't let her slight on his beloved Phils go unanswered. "And, just FYI, Cole Hamel's gonna do just fine, thank you very much. I've read the preseason scouting reports, and I've got him tucked away nicely in my fantasy roster. And Huddy―that boy's gonna prove all hat and no cattle this season, like my pal Jeremy says. Everyone knows that Huddy hasn't been the same since he came back from Tommy-John surgery last year. Your boys are going down, Bones. Too bad you'll be locked away in that sterile little soundproof box seat when it happens―which is no way to see a ballgame, by the way. It's just wrong."

"For your information, I've got a box seat at Disney," Brennan smiled smugly. "I actually have first row seats behind homeplate for Clearwater, thanks."

"You won't catch many foul balls in a seat like that, Bones," he chuckled as he shook his head. "If you'd have consulted with me first, I'd have told you where to sit with the best chance of catching a foul tip. But no, you're too good for me, huh?"

_When you're being this much of a stubborn asshole, maybe_, Brennan silently muttered. However, she shook her head and then said, "Who wants to risk having a high speed projectile launched at my cranium? I want to watch the game, not play dodgeball."

"Dodgeball?" he grunted. After a minute, however, a particularly lecherous look lit up his face as a rather novel thought occurred to him. "What's this, Bones? You having traumatic flashbacks to junior high P.E. class?" he smirked.

"No," Brennan replied truthfully. "Satisfying my physical education requirements, while tedious when I was in middle school, were in no way memorable to me...unlike some, I don't have the fondness for such times and places in my past since I didn't spend the majority of their high school career camped out under the football bleachers, missing class for more nefarious reasons, thank you very much."

"Huh." Booth hooked his thumbs in his pockets and leered at her with a wicked grin. _Yeah, I just bet you would've loved to have been taken under the bleachers by a guy like me. Too bad Jared's too much of a jerkwad to make that particular fantasy come true, huh, Bones? All Miss-Squinty-Prime-and-Miss-Emily-Post-Proper my ass. It's always the quiet ones you've got to watch out for...you've probably got a bigger freak flag than most...and even if you didn't get laid until you were twenty-two, I bet you still messed around in a few science lab supply closets because even geeks mess around. Heh. Yeah, I just bet you did. I wonder how many nerds you fucked around with all in the name of research, even if you didn't literally fuck 'em. _

"Well, you obviously have some kind of hangup about balls here. Is there some particular reason you're suddenly anxious about swinging bats and swiftly-moving balls coming into contact with your face? I'm not a believer in that kind of coincidence, Bones."

Her fists clenching at her sides, Brennan's nostrils began to flare as she narrowed her eyes and refused to back down at the second thinly veiled insult he'd just tossed her way in a relatively short period of time. _You are such a dick sometimes_, Brennan thought. _A complete and total dick._.._and I think it's about time that someone took you down a proverbial peg...i.e., that someone being me._

She could hear the faint footfall of McCann and Tobin in the distance, although she knew they were no longer in visual distance. Her decision made, she threw down her messenger bag and quickly rounded on Booth. Coming up behind him, she grabbed at his shoulders as she half-grunted, "Oh, look at that, Booth. I think I saw a tick crawling on you."

"What?" He rolled his shoulder, trying to loosen her grasp as he brought his hand up from his hip to brush his lower back.

_What the fuck, Bones? I mean, Jesus—_ _if Jared was such an epically awesome lay, shouldn't you be good for a while with your damn biological itches or what? I mean, didn't you get enough grab-ass with my brother the other day? I mean, fuck. Awww, shit, _he said to himself, grunting quietly as he tried to wrench himself out of her grasp. _If you keep touching me, I don't know what I'm gonna do. I'm either gonna go fucking ballistic or I'm gonna throw you on the damn ground and—_

"No way. I've been out here like ten minutes. I'm fine. Let go of me."

"Ticks and chiggers," she continued. "Are very common in this part of Florida. They're horrible little insects, no matter what Dr. Hodgins said. Once they get into your clothing, they bite horribly if you don't stop to remove them as soon as you see them. And, if you carry them on your clothing into your dwelling, you can contaminate your carpets and bedding and all types of textile materials. As such, they have to be ruthlessly removed as soon as they're seen."

"Hey," he sneered. "Don't lecture me about biting insects in the South, okay? I spent plenty of time tramping around in the woods of western Georgia in the summertime when I was stationed with the Rangers at Fort Benning. I know all about the goddamn man-eating bugs that are out here, alright? Now, get your mitts off of me, okay?"

"Then, stand still," she said as she squeezed his shoulders for emphasis. "And, let me get the tick off of you."

"I'm fine," he insisted, trying to wrench his shoulder from her grasp. _Dammit, Bones. I mean, fuck. _His forehead creased. _Why are you doing this? And, more importantly, why does it feel so maddeningly good when you touch me? No...no...I can't take this. _ "Let go of me. I'm just fine."

"No," she insisted. Realizing that she needed to get his attention, she twisted slightly against him and toed her boot in between his legs. Pressing up against his back, she felt a bit dizzy as she drew in a deep breath of his scent―in that moment a mixture of aloe from the sunblock he'd slathered on his face and the fake forestry-fresh scent of the Deep Woods Off Bug Repellent he'd layered on his clothing. "Now, quit squirming."

She lifted up the bottom of his lightweight FBI windbreaker and reached for the waistband of his jeans. She grabbed a fistful of his French blue shirt and yanked it out of his jeans, then, before he could do much more than flinch slightly at the sensation, she tugged a handful of his gray cotton T-shirt out of his pants.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he choked, twisting his hips away from her. _Have you lost your damn mind? Illegal use of the hands. Five yard penalty. Automatic first down._

Anticipating this response, she slid her hand under his shirt and cupped her hand around the side of his abdomen, just over his abdominal external oblique muscle. _How can you not know, Booth? _a voice echoed in her mind. _How can you know me as well as you think you do and not realize that I possibly couldn't be touching you like this and feeling the way I am if I was doing it after I touched your brother in the same way? _

"I told you," she said standing on her tip toes as she leaned up into his ear. _God, what I would love to do to you right now, Booth. But, no...first, you've got to see, don't you? You've got to know that you're the only one who can make me feel this way_―_I've touched thousands upon thousands of human bodies over the course of my career...throughout my entire life, really. And_―_although I never thought I'd say this...and, hell I probably wouldn't have said it before a week ago, even if it was true, and I just hadn't realized it...yours is the only one that matters, Booth_―_the only one...God, I love touching you, and I've barely let my fingers run over your skin. How can I want something...want it this much from just a single touch? Damn_―"I saw a tick crawling on you, and I'm removing it."

"What?" he coughed, blinking as he tried to summon up his focus despite the way her long, slender, warm fingers felt against his bare skin. He noted a sharp tingle in his lower back―unrelated to the ache he'd been feeling after the tedious drive down in McCann's SUV that Booth had known from the start would be a problem since he really couldn't demand to drive down from Jacksonville―and a dull tugging sensation just below his navel. Her touch unnerved him, and he bit the inside of his lip as he tried to think of something to say, though his mind didn't seem to be willing to cooperate at that moment. "Hey...knock it off," he murmured, squirming against the contact. He felt her hot breath against the short hairs on the back of his neck, and he tried once more to shake away from her grasp. "Bones, let go of me," he growled. "Okay, that's enough. Knock it the fuck off, alright?" He narrowed his eyes, gritted his teeth and twisted around, attempting to hip-check her into letting go.

"No," she said, as she quickly countered his move. "I'm still looking for that tick, and you're not getting loose until I find it." She stopped and suddenly they both knew this was no longer about a bug. "So, do I have your attention now or what?"

"Why do I have the impression this isn't about a tick?" he suddenly muttered under his breath.

Brennan grinned even though she knew he couldn't see her smile. "Hmm, and you said you were just a dumbass cop. Maybe you aren't quite as dumb as you portray yourself to be after all." She tugged on his shirt to emphasize her point, letting herself have the reward of indulging in another deep breath of his scent as she did so. After a moment, she closed her eyes and then said, "But, just so we're clear since you said I should be subtle where you're concerned, perhaps this will refresh your memory since I'm certain you recall being outside the lab in the Jeffersonian's back parking lot when you weren't really giving me a chance to get a word in edgewise before you stalked off like a pouty little boy about to throw a temper tantrum because he's not getting his way?" Brennan said quietly.

"What?" he hissed. "Who are you talking about being a little boy?" _One go at you, Bones, and you'd sure as hell know I'm no little boy. There's nothing little over here, alright? Oh, no—_ _no siree. All man here, baby. And one run at you, just one fucking run at you, baby, and you'd never even think 'boy' and 'Booth' in the same breath. _"Why are you doing this? I don't want to hear about you and my brother, alright? And I really don't want to hear about whoever it is you're gonna go to tomorrow's baseball game with, okay? I'm just really not interested."

"You're an incredibly obtuse and thick-skulled individual at times," Brennan sighed in his ear. "Your tendency to jump to conclusions when you're in a negative mindset and think the worst of people without any supporting evidence to back up your conclusion is completely infuriating."

"What's there to be infuriated about?" Booth countered. "Look, we've got a job to do and if you would just quit it with the grabbykins there and let me go, we can go to what we came here to do."

"Who says I'm not doing _exactly _what I came here to do right now?" Brennan told him.

Booth swallowed heavily once as he thought about her words. _Wait, what? She didn't just say...no...there's no goddamn way she wants me, not after gettin' all busy with the boy wonder the other night. This is...surely I'm imagining things. But, hell, there's no mistaking that look on her face_.

"You really want to do this right now?" he asked. "Really, Bones?"

"You tell me, Booth," she murmured into the skin of his shoulder letting her lips run over the thin material of his jacket. "What do you think?"

Booth's eyebrows knit low and hard over his eyes. _I know that look. She's got that hungry-ass look in her eyes like some kind of maneater, and I'm the sacrificial meal. But she's gotta be playing me. Yeah, there's no damn way that she could possibly..._

He frowned as he replayed the conversation in his mind. "I think that I'm not certain what in the hell's gotten into you, but if you want to talk about my dumbass brother and what he's done, fine. I'm not the sharpest tool in the Jeffersonian's fancy little tool shed here, Bones, but it doesn't take a damn rocket scientist to figure out what happened the other night. I know what I know, okay?"

"And, what's that?" she asked, still not letting go of her tight grip on his, but putting as large amount of distance between them as she could while still holding on to him.

"I know about you...and him," Booth finally muttered.

"There's nothing to know," Brennan said. "I've told you that."

"Oh, right," Booth snickered. "You expect me to believe you went out with my brother, staying out 'til dawn, and nothing happened? I might just look like a stupid jagoff cop, alright, but I'm not an idiot, Bones. And I really don't want to be having this conversation, now or anytime in the foreseeable future, okay? So let's just drop it, and you get your grubby mitts off of me, okay?"

She paused and said softly in his ear, "I strongly suggest, unlike before you stalked off in the lab, you consider my words carefully this time instead of making blatant innuendo about what my sex life was or is like." She paused and pressed herself against him for emphasis once again as she forced the issue. "Now, when have you ever known me to deny anything about my past sexual experiences before?"

He stared at her, jutting his lower jaw forward as he thought about it. "Still―"

"The answer is, I don't," Brennan reminded him curtly, hoping a bit of time to let him mull over what she'd just said and done might bring him to a rational conclusion on his own. _Otherwise, I guess I'm really going to have to take some drastic measures here, hit you over the head with a hard object, and drag you somewhere where I can have my way with you_, Brennan thought. "There's no point to it. It is as it is...and for the record, although I'm sure he thought he was going to get further than second base, only one Phillies fan has a chance of batting for the cycle against me...and it isn't your brother." She paused before she pressed herself one last time against his back to emphasize her words. When she was done, she released him as she said, "Consider _that _point."

Booth raised an eyebrow and sniffed, but said nothing except a noncommittal, "Hmmph," in reply. _Maybe Jared did take her to bed, but did such a worthlessly incompetent job that all he did was get her all amped and cranked up, teed up and ready to go, and now the tigress is on the prowl, and guess who's left alone in the woods with her? Jesus H. Christ..._

She then stopped, shook her head, and then reached down and picked up her messenger bag from the ground. Standing up strauught, Brennan gave him a long and hard look, and then turned and continued walking down the path.

He watched her walk away but stood, perplexed, as she trudged down the gravel path leaving him all alone.

* * *

><p>Over the next two and a half hours, they'd worked in silence but for official responses, falling into the familiar and easy pattern which they'd developed, refined, and eventually perfected over the years of their partnership. It was almost as if the conversation that they'd had as they'd walked to the site―and the physical contact that had ensued―had never happened. However, after Brennan finished her examination of the remains, she became half aware of the conversation that Booth was having with Tobin and McCann.<p>

"―and so, I think the best thing for me to do is catch a ride back to the park ranger station with Jack, and Stacy can pick me up there. That way, you'll have access to a vehicle if you need it while you're wrapping up down here before you head back to D.C. Once you finish the case work, we can arrange to meet somewhere and switch out cars, if that works for you?" McCann asked Booth.

Somewhat surprised that McCann was willing to relinquish the vehicle to him so nonchalantly, Booth shrugged as she replied, "Sure, yeah. That'd be great."

"Then, I can catch a ride with Jack and you can ride your partner back to town?" McCann asked. "Does that work?"

Brennan's head snapped up as she waited for Booth's response.

"Umm, sure," Booth replied. "I'm guessing she's pretty close to there―" He glanced over at his partner and their eyes met briefly in a hard, vaguely uncertain stare. McCann reached into his pocket and tossed the keys to Booth, who caught them in a swift, overhand grab, turning them over in his hand as he once again looked over at Brennan. "Alright, so I'll give you a call tomorrow and we'll figure out when to meet. I'm gonna―well, we've got some business down here for the next few of days..." His words trailed off as he decided to keep the nature of their business vague. "So I should be back up in Jax in by the end of the week. I'll meet you at the office, and maybe you can give me a ride so I don't have to cab it since Bones is flying out of OIA?"

"That works," McCann said with a nod. He considered the strange pair before he smiled. _What a story I'm going to have to tell Stacy at dinner_, McCann mentally observed, as he thought of his partner, Special Agent Stacy Dawkins. Shaking his head, he said, "Well, try to not work _too _hard. You two should have some fun if you get the chance to take a few hours off. The weather's supposed to be pretty decent the next few days―a little cooler the day after tomorrow, but not too bad. We haven't set in to the summertime pattern of hot days and afternoon thunderstorms just yet. If you find the time, maybe you two can catch a spring training game."

"Umm, yeah," Booth replied, quirking an eyebrow as he tossed the keys in his hand absentmindedly and caught them.

"Okay," McCann said. "Then, we'll leave you two to it. Just remember when you follow the trail that to get back to where we left the SUV, you need to go left when you hit the fork and not right, okay? Otherwise, you'll end up in the middle of a cattlerun on the McGreetie Ranch."

Booth nodded, not sure he got all of that but confident that he would find his way between what portion of that he had caught and his natural, Ranger-honed sense of direction.

"You should write that down, Booth," Brennan called to him as she continued packing up her kit. "My GPS wasn't picking up a satellite signal out here."

"Yeah," Tobin said. "It goes in and out on cloudy days. It's not so bad now since the sky's pretty clear like it was this morning, but you never know how the satellite traffic is going to hit."

Booth shrugged. No wonder his cell phone had been so quiet the last few hours. "Nah," he said, waving her off. "I got it all up here." He tapped a curved forefinger against his temple as he smiled at Tobin. He then called out to his partner, "Don't you worry about a thing there, Bones. We're good."

"You should write it down," Brennan counseled again with a light frown. "Just to make certain we have all eventualities accounted for, Booth."

Booth rolled his eyes, making it clear that he'd be ignoring her suggestion, and turned back to McCann. "So, you guys headin' out now?" he asked, sliding his hand into his rear pocket as he felt the index cards he'd stowed there earlier. He thought of making a note, then shrugged to himself and turned around again. "You ready there, Bones?" he called out to her.

"Not quite," she responded. "I'm still finishing up here. As soon as I'm done, you can let the FBI forensic techs bag the particulate samples, package the remains, and finish securing the site." She arched an eyebrow and added, "Any ETA on them? I've never know them to be so tardy. The FBI's resources definitely seem to have a problem with punctuality today for some reason, I suppose?"

Booth sighed audibly, ignoring her last remark as Tobin shuffled his feet impatiently. "You folks have the situation under control here?" The ranger glanced at his watch. "I'd like to be headin' back now, if it's okay with you, Agent McCann. I want to make certain that Agent Dawson doesn't have my hide after the last time I got you back late." Booth narrowed his eyes, irked that the state ranger had presumed that McCann had the lead on the case.

"You guys good here?" McCann asked Booth.

"Yeah," Booth replied. "She's just got a little to finish up, then I'll be taking her back to Orlando. Like I said, I'll catch up with you in a couple of days and let you know when I'll be heading back up to Jax to get you your ride back. I've got a flight to catch back to D.C. on Friday, so it should be before then―"

"No worries," McCann said with a nod. "Just let me know when I need to be where and how."

"Sure thing," Booth responded. "And, thanks again. I do really appreciate the loaner, though."

"Alright then," McCann said as he and Booth shook hands. "Talk to ya tomorrow, Booth."

Booth shook hands with Tobin and the two climbed into Tobin's truck. A few minutes later, he glanced back at his partner, wondering how much longer it would be before they could head back to civilization. He looked around at the area―dotted as it was by small copses of pine and scrub oak trees and scattered patches of saw palmetto shrubs with large, open clearings of tall grass―and was surprised how little tree cover there was for a National Forest. _Shouldn't there be more trees? _he wondered.

Standing up, Brennan arched her back a bit and snapped her gloves off. "I'm done here. Tom said he'd be sending a tech team back to remove what was left of the remains that we didn't bag to give him to take back to the lab before he left. As far as I'm concerned, that means I'm finished with this crime scene. I'm fairly certain it was a suicide, but we'll know more for certain one everything's shipped back to the lab for processing."

"Great," Booth said. "So we can go now?" He jingled the keys in his hand impatiently to emphasize that he was ready to leave.

As she shifted her bag on her shoulder, she nodded at him and said, "The trail's that way." As she started to walk, she didn't wait for him to fall into step behind him. She was somewhat surprised when they had walked for a couple of hundred feet in complete and total silence. At last she sighed, and said, "What?"

"Bones," he sighed. "I'm tired, okay? I had a shitty morning, flew in this afternoon from Washington, drove a miserable four hours from Jacksonville. My back is sore, my feet hurt, and I'm tired. I'm hungry, and I want to check into my hotel."

"No," she said with a shake of her head. "That's not it―not at all. You're doing it again," she said simply.

"Wait," he said. "What, are you gonna get all Sweets on me now? Suddenly you're a mind-reading shrink? Did you just finish a fourth Ph.D―or are you now just an expert on me or something now? Huh?"

Sighing, she refused to rise to his bait. Instead, her voice softened as she tilted her head and looked at him, "So, did you think about what I said or what?"

"When?" Booth snickered. "During the last two and a half hours while we were working the case? Because, if so, no, Bones, I didn't."

"Why not?" Brennan pressed.

As they approached the fork in the trail, Brennan took a step towards the branch on the left.

"For the thirtieth time, Bones, I really don't want to have this conversation, okay?" Booth replied, but stopped and then tilted his head as he added, "Hey, uh, where are ya goin'? I think we're supposed to go right here, Bones."

"No," Brennan said with a shake of her head. "It's to the left."

Booth laughed. "No, look―I was standing right next to Tobin when he gave the directions. You were playing in the dirt back there. He said to go right at the fork otherwise we'd end up in the middle of the cattle run."

"No, he didn't. He actually said the exact opposite," she insisted.

"No, he didn't," Booth countered.

"Yes, he did," Brennan replied. She stopped and then shook her head, "See? This is why you needed to write it down."

"How 'bout this, Bones?" Booth suddenly snapped. "You go whatever the hell way you want to, okay, and I'll go right. I heard what the ranger said, and I'm going this way." He peeled off his windbreaker and tucked it under his arm as he began walking down the trail to the right.

Rolling her eyes once more in clear exasperation as she saw her partner walk towards what Tobin had called the McGreetie Ranch, Brennan realized that if Booth got lost that she'd just have to find him again anyway made her take off after him once she'd thought the stereotypical statement about men being genetically coded to have an aversion to taking any counsel when it came to directions. Jogging a bit to catch up to him, she counted how many steps she'd taken so they would be able to backtrack later.

For his part, Booth didn't look over at her once Brennan caught up and fell once more into step beside him. They pair walked in silence for several moments, and as they continued walking, Booth noticed the scenery began to change a bit more into a less well-travelled path. The grass grew taller and the shrubs and copse of bushes began to grow thicker with each step they took, encroaching on the trail in more and more places the further they went.

At last, just when Booth was about to concede the point that he definitely didn't remember any of this particular scenery when they'd walked to the site, he heard Brennan stop moving beside him.

Sighing, Booth began, "Okay, look, Bones―"

As he looked at her, he noticed that something had caused Brennan to stop, but her bearing and demeanor made it clear it had little to do with directions and more with something that had caught her interest about five or six feet off the trail.

"What?" he asked, walking towards her.

"What's that?" Brennan pointed into a thicket of grass and shrubbery.

"What's what?" he asked, squinting his eyes in the direction she indicated, but not noticing anything.

"That," she repeated as she gestured again.

Booth was about to open his mouth to answer when Brennan suddenly turned and began walking in the direction in which she'd pointed.

"Bones, where in the hell are you going?" Booth called out to her as he quickly took off in hot pursuit, unintentionally dropping his windbreaker as he jogged to catch up to her.

It was the anthropologist in Brennan that had had her curiosity piqued as she walked towards the terrain that gently sloped upward. Looking down as she walked, she could tell that some type of trail had once existed despite the overgrowth that now partially obscured it. Looking around, she smiled as she came into a mild clearing and her eyes began to pick out various tell-tale signs that had proved her anthropologist's instinct had been dead on once more.

"Huh," she grinned as she walked over towards a pine tree that had a diameter of no more than a foot or so, indicating it was probably fairly young compared to some of the bigger brothers that she'd encountered while they retrieved the victim―whom Booth had taken to referring as 'Mr. Dangle'―that were probably decades older. "I knew it, I just knew it."

Crouching down in front of the pine tree, she leaned forward as she took both hands and removed some weeds that had tangled against the stone that lay propped up against the base of the tree.

After a minute, she smiled as she heard Booth's heavy footfall indicating he was nearby and closing the distance between them fast.

_So much for him being so super stealthy for a sniper, huh? _Brennan grinned to herself.

"Bones!"

"I'm over here," she called out, looking over her shoulder. "Come here and see what I've found."

"What?" he retorted as he came into sight. "Don't tell me it's Mr. Dangle's second cousin once removed or what, because if you did, that would really suck since it just means more friggin' paperwork for us."

"Not, his cousin, no," Brennan chuckled as she stood and pointed at the spot she'd just cleared of weeds. "At least―if she was, she's a cousin at least three or four generations back."

At last, Booth came up to her and squinted at the faded slate gray headstone that her efforts had revealed. The blockprint lettering on the tombstone read 'Gwenhyvar Douglass, Beloved Daughter, Wife, and Mother, 1852-1876.'

"Huh," Booth said. "How about that?"

Letting her sunglasses fall down the bridge of her noise, Brennan quickly scanned the area as she pointed out in the distance, "There's another one over there...near the gardenia bush―which isn't a native plant that grows in the wild in this part of Florida. Ergo, it must've been planted here on purpose, meaning this seems like it might be a burial plot for some type of nineteenth century homestead."

"Burial plot?" Booth asked. "What do you mean...as in some type of pioneer graveyard or something?'

"Yes," she nodded. "During the nineteenth century, after the conclusion of the Seminole Wars made it a bit less likely that a white man and his family would be killed by raiding warriors once they were removed to Oklahoma in the 1850s, Florida experienced a boom in homesteading that lasted until well into the early twentieth century. Mostly people who came here to farm citrus or raise cattle." She stopped and titled her head as she added, "It's possible that the people who own the McGreetie Ranch are descendants of this family."

"So, uhh...the McGreeties' great-great-great grandpa and grandma are buried here or something?" Booth asked as he scanned the area.

"Yes," Brennan said. "But, there's no telling how many people might be buried here. I see about eight to twelve tombstone or partial tombstones, but so much is obscured by the brush. I wonder if the SHPO has recorded this site in the state master site file."

"Shipo?" Booth asked in confusion. "Who's that? Is he like the Wizard―some lord high mucky-muck of the Florida historical squints or something?"

"SHPO is an acronym, Booth―S-H-P-O. It stands for the State Historic Preservation Officer," Brennan explained.

"Oh," Booth said. "Well, that's great. But, uhh, I think we need to back track and figure out where we took the wrong turn so we can get back to the truck and get on the road so we don't hit too much of the rush hour traffic that McCann was warning us about."

Narrowing her eyes at his words, Brennan pursed her lips before she repeated his words. "Where _we _took a wrong turn?"

"Yeah," Booth said as he gestured with his thumb in the direction from which they'd come. "Now, come on."

"No―" Brennan suddenly told him, crossing her arms. "Not until you admit that we're here because you went in the wrong direction because you were stubborn and thought you knew better and didn't want to listen."

"Now, look―" Booth began. "I really don't want to get into this again. I'm not being stubborn―"

At this, Brennan couldn't help herself as she snorted. "Oh, God―that's just _too _funny. Seriously, Booth―tell me you're making a lame joke by saying you're not being stubborn."

"I'm not―"

"Oh, just like you weren't being stubborn about believing me when I said that I didn't sleep with your brother," Brennan said.

"Jesus Christ, Bones," he suddenly snapped. "How many times do I have to tell you―I don't need a play-by-play of how you and Jared got busy Saturday night and got some nookie or had intercourse or whatever the fuck else you want to call it."

"I didn't sleep with your brother," Brennan repeated. "And, you know what? I'm damn near tired of you insisting that I did when you weren't even there. Now, you're going to listen to me, and we're not leaving this clearing until you admit that you believe me."

As soon as she'd said the words, Booth guffawed as he said, "Oh, please, Bones―what do you really think you can do that can make that little miracle come to pass? What...will you be turning water into wine next, or what?"

Brennan's eyes narrowed even further as she realized that despite her best efforts, she wasn't getting anywhere with Booth. _Fine, you want to do this the hard way...fine, we'll do it the hard way._

And, that was how Special Agent Seeley J. Booth suddenly ended up staring at the bright blue Florida sky from the ground where he lay flat on his back with a very irate Dr. Temperance Brennan staring down at him from where she'd tackled him to the ground.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **_Ha! More sexy wind-up with no pitch._

_Yeah, we hear you—it's become dharmasera's speciality. Relax. You know where this is going. You've been here before, dangling on the precipice of mind-numbing sexual frustration wondering if we'll ever get these two people to effin' do it already. Yep, and you know we never disappoint (temporarily frustrate, yes—disappoint, no) _**::waggles eyebrows::**

_Of course, there's more fun yet to come._ **::snort::**

_Folks, let me be absolutely clear: _**Lesera128 **and **dharmamonkey**_ live for reader reviews._

_We love to hear what people think of our work._

_More reviews = happier writers = quicker updates._

_You know what to do, people. Click that little review button down there._

_Yep, right down there. That's the one._


	20. 20—That's Not A Rock, Pt III

**A Very Bad Idea**

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><p><strong>By:<strong> dharmamonkey & Lesera128

**Rated: **M

**Disclaimer: **_Ummm, nope, we still don't own anything. We have, however, apparently become squatters in the sandbox that we crashed... so, umm... yeah. So there we go..._

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><p><strong>AN: Lesera128 **and **dharmamonkey **_want to apologize for the lag time in getting this update up. As you know, we've both been working on fairly substantial solo pieces of our own ("_**Eighteen Minutes**_" and "_**Killing Two Birds**_" respectively) both of which just wrapped up. Now that those big solo pieces are in the can, we're back, baby! _

_So, without further ado, let's get back to the Ocala National Forest in central Florida._

****Unf Alert: ****_Yes, people. This story will include unfness. Yep, that kind, just like the other VBI scenarios did. __The farther you get into this scenario, the more unfness there is. (Surprise, surprise.) _If you don't like that kind of thing, we wonder (a) why the heck you put this story on alert, and (b) why you're still reading this A/N and not hitting that browser back button already. If you dig the unfness, then read on, our friends. Read on._ This piece is gonna start getting warm. We've cranking up the dial on interpersonal tension up to "11" (apologies to Spinal Tap) and these people are gonna pop pretty soon. _

_Let's check in on them now._

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><p><strong>V. That's Not A Rock, Part III<strong>

**Pertinent Details on Scenario #5****: **Set during the episode 4x09: "Con Man in the Methlab."

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><p>It wasn't like she didn't know exactly how they'd gotten into this situation.<p>

After all, it was mostly because of the epiphany Brennan had had about her feelings for Booth and what she wanted for both of them in the wake of the evening she'd spent in Jared's company on Saturday night that she decided to act in the first place. However, a large part of what had resulted in Brennan tackling Booth in what could only be called a sack—enough of a dinger that it would've made the NFL's great Deacon Jones proud—was Booth's own stubbornness. Unwilling to see reason about the situation, Brennan didn't know how else to get Booth to listen to her...and _believe_ her. And, in a somewhat rather instinctive move, Brennan had a sneaking suspicion that if the partners left Ocala without settling the topic between them once and for all, they might lose the opportunity to do so.

_And, I'm not doing that_, Brennan thought. _I'm not wasting any more time, losing any more opportunities to be with him, to be happy with him. Now, the question is, Booth, how much of my clothing am I going to have to take off to get you to actually believe me? Hmmm...knowing you, probably a lot. I guess it's a good thing I covered myself in Deep Woods Off this morning while I was naked if I'm going to be doing an impromptu striptease in the middle of a national forest. So, okay...let's see just how stubborn you're going to be about this or not..._

"Now," Brennan said, her chest heaving as she gulped for air as she tightened the grip of her legs around his lower torso, effectively immobilizing his legs. Her eyes squinted slightly as the bright sun assaulted her eyes, and she realized that she must've lost her sunglasses somewhere in the course of their initial scuffle. "I don't care what else you do, but you _are _going to lay there and listen to me."

"You're fucking nuts," he growled at her, gasping for breath as he squirmed underneath her, his wrists pressed into the dry, sandy ground as she leaned over enough to put some weight on her hands, effectively pinning him down. _What. The. Fuck. For Christ's sake, Bones, what the hell has gotten into you? You've truly lost your ever-lovin' goddamn mind this time, haven't you? Abso-fucking-lutely lost it._ "Get off of me, Bones! Now, right now, damn it!"

"No way," Brennan retorted, thankful that she had rather strong muscle tone in her thighs that allowed her to keep a tight grip on him.

"Jesus, Bones," Booth muttered. "You said it yourself...we're in the middle of a graveyard, and you jump me? Don't you, the holier-than-thou anthropologist, have any respect for the dead?"

Brennan snorted at his comment. "Very amusing. Of course I have respect for the dead. I respect them more than most people—yourself included," she retorted. "But, the fact of the matter is, we don't even know if this _is _a burial ground. The few headstones I can see are leaning up against trees and shrubs like someone placed them there long after they'd done their task by marking some burial plot. It's quite possible some local gathered them from someplace else and brought them there once they cleared a field for grazing something since we're in the vicinity of the McGreetie cattle run. Without running some ground penetrating radar scans, or consulting the master site file or local land records or plat maps, there's no way to know _what _this piece of land was fifty years ago, let alone a hundred and fifty years ago."

"You're just making excuses," Booth said. "Admit it. You're still wound up, probably because my limpdick little brother couldn't do get the job done on Saturday night, and now you're so horny that you've zoned in on the closest Booth with a dick that's handy no matter where we are. Well, no way, Bones. It ain't happening. No way, no how. Now, let me up!"

"Oh, no," she quickly retorted. "No way. There's no way in hell that you're getting up until you get it through that incredibly obtuse metaphorical cranium of yours that no matter what in the hell you think, I didn't fuck your brother!"

"Oh, God, we're back to that?" he muttered. "Really?"

"Yes!" Brennan snapped. "And, we're not leaving here until you admit that you believe me."

"Then we're going to be here a long time, Bones," he told her. "I hope you brought your camping gear."

"Booth―" Brennan growled, punctuating her warning with another flex of her leg muscles. When she saw Booth's eyes dart a bit lower down her body, and she knew that he knew what she was doing, she mentally congratulated herself on perhaps having been successful about finding a way of communicating to him that he could no longer ignore.

_Fine, Bones, you want to do this...fine. We'll do it. But, don't blame me if you don't like how it turns out_, Booth thought.

"Fine―" he grunted. "You really want to talk about this? Fine. We'll talk about it. Why don't we start with the $64,000 question, Bones? Why in the hell should I even believe you?" he finally sneered. "You went out with my brother―in fact, you jumped right out there and volunteered to go with him to that friggin' fancy event. He didn't even have to talk you into it. Hell, he didn't even have to ask you. Then you go out, all dolled up for _him, _and then stay out 'til dawn with him, and you're saying there wasn't any hanky panky going on? That everything was legit and above board?" Instantly, the image of a writhing and naked Brennan, her skin glistening with sweat and the glow of arousal, flashed in his mind―as did the familiar twist of pain in his gut that he hadn't been the Booth to make her feel like that. He paused and then snorted, "What kind of fool do you take me for here, Bones?" He grunted. "'Cause, you know what? I was born at night, but I wasn't born last night."

Because Brennan as finally ecstatic that she'd broken the dam and gotten Booth speaking on the issue, she didn't notice the significance or inflection of some of his words―particularly about what Brennan had done or hadn't done for Jared...as opposed to Booth.

Shaking her head, she finally countered, "You know what, Booth? I only did all that _after _you thought I wasn't good enough and put Cam out there first!"

Booth's brow furrowed low over his eyes as he glared up at her, his eyes black with fury. He wasn't even sure what made him more furious: the idea that his asshole brother had boned his partner—_his _Bones—or that his partner thought so little of him that, knowing his brother was an asshole, she volunteered herself to serve as Jared's arm-ornament at his fancy Washington soiree. Either way, he felt the muscles of his jaw and shoulders tense up. _I could just rip that fucking asshole's balls off with my bare hands right about now_. _Fuck._

"I put Cam out there first," he said, "because I know she knows how to handle Jared and the epic bullshit he's always pulling."

"Talk about epic bullshit!" Brennan snapped, as she suddenly felt an unexpected niggling unpleasantness rear its head whenever Booth's opinion of Cam came up in the course of a discussion.

_She's good, Booth, I'll grant you...but she's not nearly as good as me, and it really pisses me off that you can't acknowledge that fact. From day one when I came back from my vacation in North Carolina and found out that Goodman hadn't even considered me for the position, you've been her biggest advocate...and it's all because of some damn bond that you two think is so damn great just because you two have known each other for so long. Damn it all to hell!_

"Ever since the day she came trotting back into _my _lab, all Cam's had to do is tell you to jump and you ask how high with a smile." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she was a bit shocked by her own response. However, the point of his prior relationship―and continuing close friendship with the forensic pathologist―had gnawed at Brennan for some time. Shaking her head, she swallowed once before she exhaled heavily and tried to collect her thoughts.

For his part, as Booth processed her words, his mouth fell open and he narrowed his eyes. "What?" he whispered, grunting as he tried to shift his hips under her weight. "What in the hell are you talking about?"

"Nothing," Brennan immediately responded. _This isn't about how I feel about you and Cam. This is about what you think happened between me and Jared, so you don't get to try to use Cam to evade. That's not happening, Booth, so don't even think about trying it, _she mentally warned him. "This isn't...we're not talking about anyone else here but you and me and what you think happened on Saturday night."

"No, no, no," Booth said, shaking his head. "You can't throw a doozie like that out there and expect me to just let that go. You can't possibly be...wait, are you jealous of Cam?"

Attempting to shift the topic back to the important one at hand, Brennan asked, "And, what's your problem, Booth? Are you jealous of Jared?"

Booth's stare hardened further as he bit down hard on the inside of his lip. "What _did _you guys do all night?" he snickered. "Play chess? Did you go out for milkshakes? Maybe drive around and look at all the monuments? What, huh?"

"What?" Brennan said as she tightened her knees and pressed harder into his hips. _Well, at least we're not talking about Cam anymore_, Brennan observed. _But, seriously...why won't you believe me? _"Do you want a play-by-play of how we left the banquet, rode around in a limo, and fucked each other senseless while driving around D.C.?"

"Is that what happened, huh?" he spat, sickened by the thought as he scowled at the notion that Brennan had finally had a chance to strip a formal dress uniform off of a horny Booth and it wasn't him. _I like Kevin Costner, ya know, but even he looks like a fuckin' douche in those dress whites. At least compared to me in full evening dress. In my day, I could fuckin' rock that ol' Army Blue Mess Dress rig. _He gritted his teeth as he thought about it. _But what does it matter anyway? _"I can't believe―"

"I already told you," Brennan snapped. "I didn't sleep with your brother."

"Why did you go out with him then?" he growled. "_Why?_"

"Because," she told him sharply. "I wanted you to know that I was just as good as Cam and can do anything she can...we both know I'm better than she is even if you don't want to admit it for some completely ludicrous reason."

As soon as she'd spoken, Brennan suddenly bit her lip in frustration as she realized she'd just done the one thing she didn't want to do―bring the issue of Cam back up. _Damn it_, she thought. _Damn it, damn it, damn it!_

Booth closed his eyes and leaned his head back, feeling the rough grass underneath as he sighed in frustration. "You _are _jealous of her," he said, bringing his eyes once more to meet hers. "And I don't understand why."

"And you're jealous of your brother," she replied, refusing to compound her error by talking about Cam any more than she absolutely had to do so.

"Hardly," Booth snarled. "My brother's a fucking idiot. I'm always bailing his sorry ass outta trouble and have been doing so for years―since we were kids. He's _never _had to clean up his own shit. I love him, but he's an arrogant, irresponsible, self-centered jerk...in a word, a loser." He sighed. "You know, Jared's fooled a lot of people over the years with that charming little thing he does, but you know what? I'd never have thought you would fall for it. I thought you were smarter than that, Bones."

Feeling her frustration increase, Brennan's lips pursed into a tight line as her blue eyes blazed at him. Her nostrils flared again, and suddenly, Brennan knew that talking wasn't get her anywhere. _Okay, _she thought. _I guess I can try one last thing before the clothing comes off. Let's see just how bullheaded you're going to be. _Tightening her grip on his wrists, she leaned down and pressed her chest tightly against his, moving her lips so they hovered no more than a couple of inches above his.

"He kissed me," she breathed. "Once at the party, and again afterwards...several times in fact."

"You kissed him?" Booth asked, unintentionally sitting up a bit, and a growl escaping his lips when Brennan shoved him back down in a hard movement. His ears burned as his anger simmered into a full boil. Between the anger that bubbled up in his chest, and the pressure of her weight as she straddled his groin, he felt his blood begin to roar in his ears.

"No," she corrected him sharply. "_He _kissed _me..._and I didn't stop him...at first."

"Why did you―?" He narrowed his eyes. "Wait. What? What do you mean?"

"I've spent the better part of the past four days trying to tell you that I didn't have sex with your brother. I didn't have sexual intercourse with him. There were no sexual acts of any kind in which I engaged with him...even though he tried to initiate several with me. I didn't let him get further than second base, to use an appropriate baseball metaphor, Booth, because―even though he wanted me and let me know he wanted me―it wasn't right," Brennan said, her voice becoming rough with emotion. _Because he's not the one I want. You are_.

_It wasn't right. _Booth shook his head against the coarse, dry grass. "I don't understand," he muttered, his voice lowering to a quieter decibel than his previous roar. "So you went out with him, but when he pressed you, you balked? Why? Why would you do that? Because, I just don't get it, Bones. What gives?"

"Maybe I need to try telling you this in another language besides English, because obviously the way I'm communicating with you isn't processing for some reason," Brennan sighed, as she wondered if she could keep the tight grip on his legs at the same time she took off her top. _That's what I'm going to have to start with, I suppose, since he's being unusually obtuse...even for Booth_, she mentally sighed. "Even though he's done what you never did and pursued me because he wants me―"

"What are you saying?" he gulped. He narrowed his eyes. _What did she just say? _'_He's done what you never did.' What the hell? So wait—she's not saying...no...how could that possibly...what? Seriously? I've been wiping the drool off my chin and jacking off in the shower for the past—I don't even know how long—and she's been sitting here wanting me to make a play all along? This makes absolutely no sense. No goddamn sense at all. _ "Are you saying you wanted me to make the move on you, Bones? What's your point?"

"I've tried telling you that for years!" Brennan snapped, pleased and relieved that he was finally starting to make the connection, but frustrated that he wasn't understanding what she'd been trying to communicate to him in what she'd always believed was a perfectly understandable manner. _Goddamn it—if the past four years of my sex life have been Boothless because of poor communication, maybe I need to give up on professional writing, since it's clear that only idiots must be reading my books and enjoying them_, she thought. "Don't you remember right before you hooked up with Cam? After you broke it off with Rebecca? We were sitting in my office, and...God, Booth―I all but sent you the proverbial engraved invitation to you saying that I wanted to give things between us a go, and you turned me down!"

_Wait_―_what? I did what? _Booth though in confusion as he remembered things slightly different from how Brennan was recounting them. _Seriously? I came away from that case sure that you thought I was some kind of brainless male slut, unable to control my base impulses and thus doomed to act out the anthropological inevitabilities of my biological imperatives, or whatever the fuck squinty-ass terms you used to say that I was basically a slave to my own dick_. _And now you're saying __I__ screwed the pooch when I could've been screwing you? No way_―_no fucking way!_

"You chose Cam instead of me," Brennan continued her rant. "And, then, to add injury to insult, after you broke it off with Cam, you told me I wasn't good enough to be with because of that stupid goddamn line of yours, but Cam was. You were with her, but I wasn't good enough. Do you have any idea how much that hurt me?"

A couple of beats passed in silence between them before a low growl sounded from Booth's throat. _You were hurt? What about me, huh? Me._

"Do you have any idea how much _you _hurt _me _going out with my brother?" he snapped.

"You're jealous of him," Brennan suddenly realized, her eyes snapping up to meet his bewildered and angry brown irises. _I mean, I knew that...I knew you were a bit jealous of Jared, but I never thought you would be this upset...because why, Booth? Is it...is it because you feel about me even a part of what I feel for you? Is that why you're so bothered by this?_

"No, I'm not," he snickered, a bit of nervousness coming into his demeanor. _So, what if I am? It's not like I'm ever gonna tell you that. _"Why the fuck would I be jealous of Jared?

_You do care about me_, she suddenly realized. _You...you, that is_―_you do care about me? Goddamn it...then why are we sitting here talking about Cam and Jared...why aren't we talking about us?_

Shaking her head slowly, she said, "I couldn't figure it out before―why you were so angry at the lab...and now. But, it's because you're jealous of Jared...because you think he had me when you haven't―" She stopped, tilted her head, as she considered her statement. Running it through her mind, after she'd decided that the conclusion was sound, her resolve hardened as she looked down at him. "That's it, isn't it?" _Come on, Booth...just admit it. Tell me how you feel...really. Then, we can stop wasting time here and get to some more...diversionary pastimes. And, I don't mean baseball._

"No," Booth responded, just a bit too quickly. "That's fucking nonsense, Bones."

He stopped, swallowed once, and then looked at her. Booth's heart was thumping in his chest and he felt short of breath, whether due to his anger or the fact that Brennan was leaning on his chest, or both, he wasn't entirely sure. _Had you? Bullshit. You've been fucking jerking me around for years, Bones, making me feel like a total asshole. A schmuck. Then you all of a sudden decide you want me after stiff-arming me for fucking forever, and now I'm supposed to just crawl towards you on all fours, my tail between my legs, grateful to get whatever you've decided you want to give me? Or take from me? This is so fucked up. I mean, shit._.

"You want to know what I was jealous about Jared about?" he asked.

"Yes," Brennan nodded emphatically. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know, so please―tell me."

Sighing, he pursed his bottom lip for a moment as he stared up into her eyes. _What are ya trying to do to me, here, Bones? Kill me? Because that's what you're doing here. You're killing me_, he thought with an annoyed sigh of exasperation.

"Fine," he said as he held her assessing gaze. "Fine, then here it is. I may have been a tad bit envious of my troll of a baby brother because I think...hell, I _know _that his Saturday night seems to have been a whole hell of a lot better than mine was," he told her. "Okay? Happy now?"

"No," Brennan said with a shake of her head. "I'm not."

"Jesus Christ, Bones," he grunted. "What the fuck else do you want from me?"

"I want...I want to know what that means," she told him.

"What what means?" he responded.

"Why do you think Jared had a better night than you did?" Brennan questioned him.

_I hate this, _Booth thought. _I hate this, and I hate that you're making me tell you...admit this part. Who in the hell do you this you are? And, more importantly? Why does it even matter? But you've got that look in your eye, don't ya? You're not gonna let this one go until one of us caves, so fine. If this will shut you up, get you up off of me, and back on our way to merry fuckin' sunshine land so I can go get blitzed on the contents of the minibar in my shitty hotel room all by my lonesome over how shitty this week's been, fine. But that doesn't mean I don't have to like it because I don't. I fucking hate it, and it's all your fault for making me tell you this. Jesus, I hate this. Fuck, Bones. Fuck, fuck, fuck―_

"You wanna know how I spent my Saturday night, Bones?" Booth began. "It was real fucking exciting. I sat on my couch, drinking a six-pack of fucking Pabst Blue Ribbon because the liquor store was all out of Yuengling, and all I had for Netflix were the nature documentaries I'd ordered for Parker, each of which I'd already seen twice with him, and I only still had them because I kept forgetting to drop them in the mailbox about thirteen times this week. The only fucking hockey game I actually wanted to watch was blacked out. There's no football on. Baseball hasn't started yet. And the only thing on TV worth even considering was _Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives._"

He paused and made a face as he considered why he didn't dig in to a show he normally enjoyed.

"And you wouldn't know this since I know you don't have any idea what in the hell I'm talking about anyway, but lemme tell you. Watching that show that night was its own form of fucking torture becausemy fridge was completely empty, 'cause I hadn't had a chance to go to store because of how crazy the case has been going. I ordered a pizza and what do ya fuckin' know? The delivery guy's car broke down on the way to bring me my fucking dinner, so it took two fucking hours to get my pizza. So, all in all, my fucking Saturday night sucked the big one. Alright?"

He narrowed his eyes and chewed the inside of his lip for a moment, then grunted, twisting beneath her as he continued.

"And meanwhile, you're gallivanting around town with my loser-ass brother and probably getting busy while I was so depressed I couldn't even bring myself to jack off―" _Because I couldn't even get hard when all I could keep thinking about was the fact that my douche of a baby brother had somehow managed to get the go ahead sign to bat around from you and my ass was still stuck in the on-deck circle. How in the fuck was I supposed to even get it up when all I could think about was the image of him plowing into you over and over when you screamed a Booth's name that wasn't mine? Fuck!_

"So how the _fuck _do you think that made me feel, huh?" he finally finished what had quickly morphed into a fairly spirited tirade.

_Wait, what? _Brennan thought. _Comments about his food and television issues aside, why would he be so depressed that he couldn't become sexually aroused? I don't understand._

"Is that how you normally spend your Saturday nights when you don't have Parker and we don't have a case?" Brennan asked, trying to understand.

"Normally spend my Saturday nights how?" Booth asked, now slightly confused himself at her words. "What?"

"Masturbating," Brennan asked with a curious look in her eyes as she felt the pulsing between her legs start to get a bit faster as she imagined what he could do to himself with his hands when he was naked and aroused...which inevitably led to her thinking what he could to _her _with those hands.

Booth stared at her as his mouth dropped a bit in surprise at her response. _Jesus Christ...of course that's the only word she'd hear in that entire fucking rant. Fuck―_

"Is it?" Brennan asked when Booth remained silent.

"Wait...no," he muttered. "Jesus, Bones, no―" _Awwww, shit. I think I just dug myself in a little too deep there. Little Miss Anthropological Inevitabilities and Biological Imperatives is never gonna friggin' let me live down __that__ little slip, now, is she? Shit._

"Because, if it is, your sexual frustration as it's contributed to your sour mood is understandable," Brennan said in what she hoped would be a comfortable way. _And, should make you even better in bed when you quit being unusually obtuse in your insistence about if I slept with Jared or not. Hmmm...a sexually frustrated Seeley J. Booth...delicious._

"I'm not sexually frustrated," Booth suddenly grunted, his face turning a bit redder as he stared at her in complete disbelief. _Well, I am. I've been sexually frustrated since we first worked together on the Gemma Arrington case. A certain corner of my brain got roped off with yellow tape and since that damn case, I was never able to get you_―_or the fact that I want you_―_outta my fucking head. But hell will fucking freeze over before I ever admit that to you, Bones._

"But, you just said―" Brennan began.

"I'm not the one who's sexually frustrated here, Bones," Booth growled.

"Oh, really?" Brennan started to counter, a sarcastic lilt to her voice. "Then―"

"I think you might want to take a look at the one who just tackled who and is straddling the other one before you touch that one with a ten-foot pole, huh, Bones?" Booth cut her off. "Now, look―I know that you're horned up or something since apparently my itsy bitsy squidy sibling couldn't get the job done, but seriously, _you _calling _me _sexually frustrated is really fucking rich."

Now it was Brennan's turn to stare at Booth for several long seconds in abject frustration. _Seriously? He still seriously thinks this is about Jared and me? How can he be that goddamn dense?_

"What do I have to do to get you to believe that I didn't fuck Jared?" she breathed suddenly, the edge in her voice becoming more and more dangerous with each word she let fall from her pouty lips. "Seriously, tell me. What do I have to do to get you to believe me? Because Booth, the bottom goddamn line is, I didn't comply with his suggestions because―well, because he isn't the Booth brother I want to have sex with, okay?"

"You've got a lot of fucking gall, Bones, to talk to me about how much I've hurt you, when you pull that bullshit with my idiot―"

He stopped, his breath catching in his throat.

"Wait...what did you just say?"

_This must be one of those science fiction type situations where you step through a wormhole into an alternate universe, and then the minute you get into that wacky universe, you can't find your way out again, so then you spend the rest of the episode or movie trying to figure out how to get back to the real world. _He looked around and narrowed his eyes. _Except...wait...did she actually say what I thought she said? She wants to have sex with me? She wants to have sex with me. With me. Sex. Mmmmmm. Sex. With me. Bones. She wants to have sex with me. Bones wants me. Bones wants to have sex with me? Okay...if I just walked through some kind of weird wormhole, maybe when I took the wrong turn off the path 'cause I wasn't paying close enough attention to Ranger Rick's instructions, but now I'm in this weird alternate universe where Bones is sitting on my crotch, straddling me, telling me she wants to have sex with me—sex with me, Seeley Joseph Booth—well, then I'd have to be a fucking idiot to spend another goddamn second looking for a way back to that other end of the wormhole. _He blinked. _Or maybe I'm a little dehydrated and I'm starting to hallucinate._

"Seriously?" she blinked at him. _Okay, I think I've had about enough of this. That's it. Screw trying to talk this out. The clothes are coming off and body parts are going to start touching. Now, right now._ "You really need me to repeat what I just said when you're laid out flat on your back, I'm straddling you with my breasts pressed up against your chest, and my lips are this close to yours, Booth? Seriously?" She stopped and then tilted her head as she asked, "What, do I need to diagram this for you?"

He swallowed, his cheeks flushing as he realized the truth of what she'd just said. _Yeah, okay. Maybe I'm not hallucinating. Or maybe I am, and this is a really good hallucination. Better than that one time...well, never mind. She seriously wants to do this? To do me? To have sex...with me? Hmmmmm. This is unreal. Un-fucking-real. Potentially awesome. But still...this can't be real. Where's that canteen?_ "Umm...wait, are you, uhhhh―"

_Nope, _Brennan thought as she suddenly realized what Booth was doing. _You're not...no. Don't even think about doing that. It's not happening. You aren't talking yourself or me out of this one, so that's just not happening_, _Booth._

Shaking her head, Brennan bit her lips before she let out a sigh of exasperation and narrowed her eyes as she stared at him. She blinked―once, twice, three times. And, then, tightening her grip around his torso, she leaned down to close the small amount of space between them at the same time she yanked him forward using her loose grasp on his hands and then proceeded to smash her lips against his.

In the end, it turned out both of them were taken slightly aback by her initiation of the kiss.

For her part, Brennan began to lose herself in the feel of his hungry lips on hers. The rightness of the feeling, combined with the incredible physical response she was having to his touch might've been enough to scare her under other circumstances. However, as her brain dealt with the fact that she was _finally _kissing Booth, it didn't have much room for any other operations beyond the mandatory ones such as keeping her heart beating and her lungs filled with air.

For his part, Booth couldn't do much more than make a moan unintelligibly as he realized that his partner's lips were attached to his, and she didn't seem inclined to remove them at any point in the near future.

"_Unnnnggttthhh_," was all he could reply as he felt her lips press hard against his.

In that instant, as he felt the soft flesh of her breasts against his chest, and her thighs straddling his waist, her weight pressing hard into him, he felt lightheaded, and his mind was a swirl of sensations that drowned out any of the thoughts that sputtered there. He parted his mouth slightly as he moaned quietly into her lips.

Reluctantly pulling her mouth away from his so that she could swallow a breath of much needed oxygen, the lightheadedness she felt had made the world spin slightly. She braced herself as best she could by bracing herself against his chest. Brennan gulped in air as she struggled to speak. Eventually, she managed to sharply draw a breath before she muttered, "Now...do...you...believe...me?"

"Yes," he whispered into the tiny space between their faces, lifting his chin as he clutched at her lips with his. She pulled away slightly with a wicked grin, then lowered her head and met his lips, opening her mouth as she felt his warm, velvety tongue slide across her teeth. For several long seconds, their tongues twirled together as their lips fused, then they parted. "I believe you," he muttered. _I don't know what this means, _he thought to himself. _But there's no doubt in my mind that she fucking wants me. And holy hell, she's a great kisser. Damn. Better than I remembered. And if she's kissing me like that...oh, Jesus, maybe she really does want to take this all the damn way. Wow._

"Who knew that it would only take me tacking you to the ground, huh?" she told him, her breaths coming in rapid succession as she panted for some relief―both because of the lack of air and because of the increasing physical arousal she felt because of him that had only been made worse once they'd finally kissed. "God, you can be an infuriatingly stubborn male."

"Sacking," he corrected her as he let his head fall back on the ground, and he too struggled to find a deep breath, made increasingly more difficult by the rush of blood to his groin and the light pressure of Brennan's body on top of his. "You sacked me," he clarified.

For once, Brennan didn't take any offense whatsoever at his correction of her. She merely grinned as she said, "And, I was pretty good, too, huh?"

"I'm not an easy guy to take down," he grunted, as he lifted his head back off the ground slightly and looked at her. She'd lost her sunglasses at some point, and her Atlanta Braves ballcap sat askew on her at an adorably awkward angle. _Man, I don't really want to admit it, but― _"So, yeah, you getting the drop on me wasn't too bad."

Brennan raised herself up on her haunches again, freeing his hands but increasing the nearly maddening pressure on Booth's groin. For an agonizing moment she looked down on him, her mouth twisted into a half-grin as she slowly caught her breath again.

"Booth?" she asked, a lightness dancing in her eyes.

He gazed up at her, into her pale blue eyes, and saw something that flickered in those eyes that made his heart skip a beat and his own, warm brown eyes twinkle with hope.

A dark voice in the back of his head whispered away, tugging his attention away from the way her weight felt against his hips. _She's playing you, boy, _the voice hissed._ She's just jerking you around. If she really wanted you, she'd have come at you like this a long time ago. She's toying with you. _

"Yeah, Bones?" he replied, a sudden edginess in his voice as his brain and heart waged a silent skirmish inside his head.

The sharpness of his tone caught her a bit off guard. She tilted her head as she attempted to discern what was going on in his mind. As he blinked at her, Brennan fought against narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

_Ummm, he's not happy_, Brennan observed silently. _I-I...ahh, I thought he'd be happier about this_―_right_? _I mean...I can't be __that__ bad a kisser. I know I'm not. And, I can feel his erection pressing against my ass, so...what is it? What's wrong? _As Booth continued to stare at her, not saying anything, Brennan continued to feel a growing unease in the pit of her stomach grow. _What is it? What's he thinking?_

Booth's mouth fell open and his jaw clenched as he tried to decipher the gleam in her eyes. _She's bullshitting you, _the voice of doubt grumbled inside of him_. Maybe she's telling the truth about not fucking your brother, but she's jerking you around about the reason why. Your asshole brother probably led her along the path and kicked her to the side just to spite you, and she's been fuming about it for days. Maybe, like you said, she's been all horned up, and you're just the first clear opportunity she's had to do something about those anthropologically inevitable biological imperatives or whatever the fuck squinty term she uses to dress up the fact that she's just turned on and doesn't have any other dick handy to scratch her itch. _Booth leaned his head back against the dry grass and rolled it from side to side, a slow shake of his head in response to the meddlesome voice he heard. _Okay, so maybe she wasn't lying when she said she took that date with Jared to show you she was as good as Cam was. But, that doesn't have anything to do with what came next. The plain and simple fact of the matter is that when she couldn't get what she wanted from your brother, now she wants it from you. And it's just fucking icing on the cake that if she fucks you, she gets to even the score with Cam, to take the one last thing that she's never had that Cam had once―you, in the Biblical sense. Because she's jealous. She's...jealous? Holy shit. That's it. All of this has happened because she's jealous? Really? Fuck, Booth. How could you have missed that? Naaww...it can't be that...can it?_

"It just doesn't make any sense," he muttered, not realizing until the words had passed his lips that the internal dialogue he had been having with himself was no longer internal.

"What?" she replied, her forehead crinkled in confusion and surprise as he finally spoke. "What doesn't make any sense?"

"Why did you tackle me?' he said as he shook some of his thoughts away, and he levelled his gaze at her. He tried to use his forearms to give himself some leverage against her weight as he tried to sit up, and found that there wasn't much he could do as she continued to press herself against him. "Huh, Bones? Why did you just do that?"

She felt an acute sense of surprise at his question. _My God, Booth...how can you even ask me that? Don't you know I did that because of how I feel about you, and I don't know how else to show you how you make me feel? That I only want to make you feel the same way? I mean, I think you already do, but if I can admit it, why can't you? _She finally responded, "I told you. You weren't believing me...and I had to get your attention somehow."

"So, that's why you tackled me?" he clarified.

Slowly, she nodded.

"Okay," he conceded. "Fine. You wanted my attention so you tackled me. Is that right?"

Brennan again nodded.

"Right," he said. "Then...once you'd gotten my attention, why did you just kiss me?"

"Because," Brennan started to explain, but then let her words trail off as she suddenly found herself at a loss for how much to tell him in that one moment. _Because I wanted to...I wanted to feel your lips on mine. I wanted to feel your arms around me. I wanted to feel your hard cock pressing into my ass. I wanted you. I want you now. I want it all. And, I want to tell you that...and that I'm in love with you, but you won't give me the opportunity to tell you, you asshole! _"Like I said, I wanted to get your attention―"

"Yeah," Booth said, the impatience he felt clearly creeping into his voice. "I know. You said that, and I got that part. But, now you've got my attention...so the real question, here, Bones is why did you want it?"

A look of incredulity crossed her face as her mouth widened into a small o-shape. _Are we back to this? Really? How can you not know about how I feel about you? How? How can you not know? I mean, it's one thing if you're just in denial because you're being stubborn, but really...do you not know? Really? _ "Really?" she asked, the word out of her mouth before she'd even realized that she'd actually said it. Her voice became a bit quieter as she asked, "You really have to ask me that?"

"Yeah," he said. "I do. I want to understand what's happening here, Bones. What's going on in that scary-smart brain of yours, because you've got me confused. I'm lost, and I don't mean the I-took-a-wrong-turn-in-the-woods kind of lost." He paused and then said, "I mean, it's not a bad thing, umm, feelin' you on top of me like this. It feels nice, to be honest, but..." He squirmed as if to punctuate his statement. "But, I think I sorta want to go back to what you said a little bit ago."

Brennan's nostrils flared a bit as she said in a sharp tone, "And what's that?"

"I think you mentioned something really interesting just a couple minutes ago, Bones―something about you and Cam...and, well, I don't know why I didn't see it before, but―"

"But, what?" she asked through teeth that had somehow started to clench as her frustration and anger towards him grew with each passing second.

"You're jealous of Cam, aren't you?" he asked. The curious, undecipherable flicker that had been twinkling in Brennan's blue eyes suddenly flashed dark.

"I'm not jealous of Cam," she snapped instantly with a sharp shake of her head. "That's ridiculous."

Booth laughed, then coughed as Brennan ground her hips against him and kneed him in the side.

"Ugh," he grunted with a shake of his head. "No, no it's not. You all but admitted it," he smirked.

"I did not," she retorted. "I said no such thing."

"I can't believe you," he snickered. _What's the big deal? You're so much better than Cam. You always have been. There's no point to you feeling that she's got one up on her...unless, no. That's not it, and we're not going there, so..._ "Jesus, Bones, really? Insecure much?"

"I'm not insecure," Brennan snorted. "I know I'm more intelligent, more accomplished, and _definitely _more physically capable than she is."

Booth's jaw hardened as a wicked smirk cut across his lips and he recalled a half-dozen occasions when he caught his partner shooting a glare at the Jeffersonian's pathologist, a look so cutting that it couldn't have been a mere expression of professional rivalry. "That's not what I was referring to."

"Oh, really?" Brennan said suspiciously. "Then, why exactly do you think I'd _ever_ be jealous of Cam, Booth?"

"Because," he said, reaching his hands up to cup her face between them, pulling her lips to his and swallowing her breath as he kissed her hard. "She's had this," he hissed as he pushed her face away from his just far enough to be heard. "And this," he whispered, thrusting his hips up against her, knowing full well how aroused he was and how obvious that arousal would be to her as he pressed against her. "She's had me, and you haven't, and you envy her for that. And I'm not really sure why, but you think I chose her over you, don't you? That I put her ahead of you."

She rolled her jaw to one side as her narrow-eyed glare grew even icier at his words. At a loss for how to counter the utter truth of his words, she couldn't think of any retort but honesty in turn. Shrugging, she refused to let him know that she felt that he'd all but cornered her. _I'm not giving up this fight, Booth, because if I do that's the same thing as giving up on you...giving you up, and that's just something I'm not willing to do even if you're being a pig-headed idiot_, she thought. _So, fine. You want the truth. Fine. _ "So what if I did," she growled. "So what? That doesn't matter. It doesn't matter at all since it's true, isn't it?"

Booth laughed. "No," he grunted. "It isn't. Moreover, it's stupid. You're a fucking genius, but in this, you're so abso-fucking-lutely far off base it's not even funny." He stopped and then smirked at her. "Well, it is, a little, but in an amusing, almost ironic kinda way."

"Oh, please," Brennan grunted. "It's not funny. It's not funny at all."

"See?" Booth said as he pointed at her. "There it is."

"What?"

"Right there," Booth nodded. "You're getting your panties in a bunch, and the funny thing is, you're wasting a lot of time and effort here when you have absolutely no reason to feel threatened by her...or about her and me and what happened to us."

Brennan snorted "Oh, really? Is that so?"

"Yeah," he responded. "It is."

"So, what you're saying is that I shouldn't feel pissed off or threatened because you didn't actually chose her over me when you decided to sleep with her?"

For a moment, Booth lay still beneath her in stunned silence at her confession. The hard sarcasm that had held tight rein over his features fell away and a softer, almost sympathetic mein washed over his face. "No, you shouldn't," he admitted. "Because, I never chose her over you, Bones."

Brennan felt her heart skip a beat and her throat tighten as he made the admission. Her eyes flashed as he continued to poke and prod what was a very raw and delicate point of issue for her.

"Yes," Brennan finally managed to snap. "Yes, you did. If you expect me to believe that you didn't engage in some type of prolonged sexual relationship with Cam―"

"Come on," Booth sighed. "That's not what I'm saying, Bones, and you know it."

"Apparently, according to you, at least, I don't know as much as I think I know," Brennan volleyed back. "But, the simple fact of the point is that you chose her when you could've chosen me, but didn't."

"No, Bones," Booth sighed. He paused as he struggled to find some type of explanation that would appease her when he finally said,"That's not...look, that's not how it was."

"Oh, really?" she muttered. "So that _wasn't _you who was fucking her on the rebound from your last catastrophic fuck up with Rebecca?" Brennan stopped, her face hardened, and then she shook her head again as the painful memory played in her mind. "God, I hated you for that. How could you do that? How could you choose her and not me?"

_I didn't choose her over you, Bones_, Booth thought to himself as he suddenly realized what she was trying to tell him._ At that point, it didn't look like you had put yourself out there for the choosing. If you wanna be out there, you gotta make it known you're in the field, otherwise, well, you'll never get drafted._

"Jesus Christ," Booth muttered. "You're the one who thinks I'm obtuse? Geez, Bones. You're so goddamn dense sometimes it's not even funny. Yes, I was sleeping with Cam, on the rebound after the cluster fuck with Becks. But, I was only with her because she came after me, and―well, it was easy. It was so fucking easy just falling into things with her like I did."

_If I'd have known, Bones, that you had any interest in me, the whole series would've played out differently_, he told himself._ Fuck_―_it would've been a __completely__ different pitching match up...an entirely different line up for that matter. But your signals, assuming you even gave me any, were apparently way too fucking subtle for this dumb cop from Philly to figure out. I wanted a signal...any goddamn signal_―_run, or hold_―_but you didn't give me shit. So I made the best play I could at the time with the info I had._

He felt Brennan tense again as he spoke and tilted his head as he sought out her gaze. "You know what? What happened between me and Cam happened. I don't want to talk about it. Maybe I made a mistake, alright? But it's done, in the past, and frankly, it's none of your fucking business, Bones―"

_Oh, no you don't,_ Brennan thought angrily. _You don't get to bring Cam up and this just dismiss it. You don't get to do that, Booth, any more than you get to still be a completely obtuse and dense asshole about what didn't happen to me and Jared on Saturday night, despite your best efforts to make me out into some type of amoral slut with no class whatsoever. God, why are you doing this? Why are we even talking about other people like Cam and Jared when all I want to do is to talk about us? And, then, pretty soon stop the talking and get to the touching part?_

"Booth, look," Brennan sighed. "I―"

"You know, Bones," he said, exasperation edging the timbre of his voice higher. "I don't want to talk about Cam. I'm done talking about Cam. It's done, and the sordid details about what we did or didn't do are none of your business."

"Then, using your logic, what did or didn't happen between Jared and I is none of _your _fucking business, Booth," Brennan said as her jaw clenched in pain.

"Like hell it isn't," he growled, and he thrust his hips up into Brennan's core, making her all too aware of how he was making her feel. "I was with Cam over a year ago...almost two years, Bones. Jared happened less than a week ago. And, besides, he's my little brother―"

"And, Cam's my boss!" Brennan snapped, surprised that she was able to string together a coherent thought as she felt the pulsing in her stomach begin to unfurl its warm and steady fingers throughout her pelvic region.

"Oh, please," Booth snorted as he gave her an exasperated, knowing stare. "Why is it that you only remember that part when it's convenient for you?"

Brennan opened her mouth to speak, but was quickly cut off as Booth continued speaking.

"You know what else, Bones?" he told her as he lifted his hand and used his index finger to poke her in the chest. "After everything else, the part here that I know's stuck in your craw the worst―the part about you thinking I didn't have your back even when I was with Cam? Well, you know what? That's bullshit. When the chips were down, Bones, I chose you. _You. _And, the thing is, you don't even fucking know it."

"What are you talking about?" she said as her eyes narrowed, barely looking at him as she felt a wetness begin to build between her legs.

"Remember that case, not long after Cam started at the Jeffersonian, when we found that teenager wrapped in that shroud? The one where it turned out the younger brother of the vic's girlfriend was the one that did it?"

"Yes, I remember it," she told him vaguely.

"I was over at the lab one day, when we were in the middle of that case, and I was in the autopsy room with Cam."

"Oh, please," Brennan snorted, suddenly her focus shifting away from her physical arousal to the anger she felt as the image of Booth bending Cam over one of the metal exam tables and plowing into her from behind as he grunted and groaned her name stirred tremendous anger in her. "Now look. If this is about you and Cam fucking each other senseless in the autopsy suite because the platform, the lounge, and the bones room were occupied, I don't think I want to hear it."

"Just listen, will ya?" Booth snapped. "So Cam basically asks me what I'd do if you left the Jeffersonian. I was like, 'what?' 'What if I fired her?' she asked me."

"'Her' meaning me?" Brennan asked for clarification as she tried to keep her anger as he talked about Cam in check.

"Yes," he confirmed. "She wanted to know what I'd do—if I'd still work with the Jeffersonian if she canned you."

"What did you tell her?" _And, you better hurry up in telling me, because this is about to go from what I'd envisioned us as making love for the first time to what I believe is termed a grudge fuck if you keep talking about you and Cam. _

Booth pursed his lips as he noted the flicker behind her pale eyes. "Well, I told her the squints would probably all quit, for one thing." He paused. "And I told her I'd walk," he encountered as he remembered the conversation in question.

"Oh, really?" Brennan said with narrowed eyes. "Is that so?"

"Yeah," Booth nodded. "I remember exactly what I told her. I said, 'I'm with Bones, Cam. All the way. Don't doubt it for a second.' She was gonna shit-can you, Bones. And not to put too fine a point on it, but I'm pretty sure that if it weren't for that conversation I had with her, she'd have fired you, probably right in the middle of that case."

"You mean, she would've tried," Brennan snorted disdainfully as she quickly dismissed the idea of Cam having any serious control over her life and/or career as laughable.

"Goodman made her the head of the lab, Bones," Booth grunted. "If she wanted you gone, you would've been gone. Gone. Like that." He snapped his fingers to illustrate his point.

_You can think that_, Brennan wanted to say. _And, it may or may not be true. But, in the end...does it matter? Because you still ended up in her bed and not mine even after that point because..._ Suddenly, several thoughts rattled in Brennan's head as she narrowed her eyes and tried to pull enough concentration together to see if she could remember their case chronology right. _Because that case with the foster children came before the case with the bigamists...and that's about when you started up again with Cam...so_―_son of a bitch! _

Brennan stopped and considered his words for a long moment before she said, "Was this before or after you started sleeping with her?"

_Oh fuck, _he cursed silently. _Fuck, fuck, fuck. Damn it. That wasn't a fire ant. It was that fuckin' attention to damn detail thing of hers that just bit me in the ass. I'm screwed, and not in a good way._

"What?" he asked, suddenly taken off balance a bit by the directness of her question.

"It's a fairly simple question, Booth," Brennan said, her voice low and silky smooth in the danger that lay hidden just below the surface. "Was this conversation, when you so gallantly had my back, before or after you resumed having sexual intercourse with Dr. Saroyan?"

Taking a deep breath, Booth's nostrils flared a bit as he looked away from her.

"Ahh," Brennan said with a knowing stare. "I'll take that to mean that to mean it's as I suspected and you had this conversation before you started sleeping with Cam again." She paused and then said, "So, in a way, I was right. You've never really had to make a choice between her and me and chosen me." She stopped and tilted his head at her and then a thought occurred to her. "If you had it to do all over again, would you do anything differently?"

"What?" he asked, clearly taken aback by her question. _Wait, what are we really talking about here?_

"If you had the chance to do it over again knowing that I wanted you and was offering you the chance to be with me, who would you choose―Cam or me?" Brennan blinked at him.

"What the fuck does that mean, Bones?" he sneered. "It doesn't matter―"

"Yes," Brennan insisted. "Yes, it does. Because, remember, Booth―nothing happens in this universe once, so who would it be? Cam or me?"

"This is complete bullshit," Booth muttered.

"Answer the damn question," Brennan insisted. "Would you have chosen me?"

"Is it too late to go back to bed, crawl under the covers and start this whole damn day over?" he asked with a throaty sigh. "Because I really don't want to be having this conversation, Bones."

"You wouldn't choose me," Brennan made it more as a statement than as a question. "You wouldn't, would you?"

"Why does it even matter, huh?" Booth pressed her.

"Because!" Brennan snapped, feeling the tenuous hold she had on her roiling and scattered emotions slipping out of her lose grasp. "The bottom line here is, right now, you're here, I'm here, and Cam's not. But, if you don't want me, fine. But, this time it's going to be on you...not me. There won't be any way you can blame this on anyone but yourself for whatever happens next―not me, not mixed signals...just you because I'm letting you know..." She took a deep breath and then leveled an intense stare at him as she said, "I want you."

"You want me?" he coughed. "You want _me_? I don't understand. Why now, after all this time?"

Now that Brennan had finally made the beginning part of her confession, she found she couldn't stop the words from spilling out of her mouth as she hastily grabbed for his hand, intertwined his fingers with hers, and rambled on a bit more. "I'm offering you the choice. I'm here, and I want you, and the decision is yours―all you have to do is make the choice." She stopped, and gave him a rather cocky look of her own as she said, "So, I may have come into this case feeling slightly, albeit undeservedly, inferior to Dr. Saroyan, but I think I won't leave it that way. I think...if I'm right, that I won't be leaving this case feeling in any way insecure about her...what she's done, where she's been, or who she'd had."

"So this is a do-over, huh?" _After all that wind-up, what she wants is a fucking do-over, _the angry voice in the back of his head said. He narrowed his eyes and pondered the situation._ A do-over, or to borrow from another pasttime, a mulligan? If this isn't what I've been waiting for, hell, for ages, I'd laugh out loud. Goddamn, you're a piece of work, Bones. You left me hanging with no idea of what you wanted, but now that you've decided at long last what you want, you want to turn back the clock and have a do-over? And what's better is, though there's a part of me that thinks this is fucking nuts and possibly a huge mistake, I'm probably gonna go for it. Because how could I not? I want you. I've always wanted you. And if you're really saying you're ready to get in the game, I'm not gonna let you go_―_but only if you're really in this thing because of you and me. So are you? Are you really in? _"Is that it? I don't know about this, Bones. I mean..."

Stopping, Brennan looked down at Booth, the thoughts racing through her brain at a blazing fast speed. _Why are you being like this, Booth? I know you want me_―_I know you do. I can see it in your eyes, I can feel it poking me in my ass. I know it. So, why can't you just admit it? Why can't you tell me? Have I not convinced you of how I feel about you, what I want from you? Is that it? Because, that's not leaving me much of an option of what I can do next. I've tried reasoning with you, I've tried tempting you...I've tried being direct with you...but, is that it? Maybe I'm not being direct, enough, both verbally...and physically._

"I don't get it, Bones," he was suddenly saying. "I just don't get it. Why now?"

Looking down at him, she tightened the pressure of her knees as she stretched her legs her further into his sides. She let his hands loose and shook her head. "Okay, Booth. That's it."

"What?" he suddenly blinked at her. "What's it?"

"No more questions," Brennan said. "No more questions...just one more very important statement I think."

"Oh, really?" Booth snorted. "And, what's that, Bones?"

"I've come to the conclusion that I'm not being direct enough with you, I think, Booth―"

She paused for a second, letting her wet tongue dart out as she unconsciously licked her bottom lip. _Okay, here it goes. I didn't want it to have to come to this, but...oh, wait. I did. So, yeah, let's see how you try to talk us out of this one._

Her gaze then softened as she let some of the sensuous desire she felt for him flood her eyes as she reached up and pulled the white cotton overshirt she was wearing off of her body. Tossing it to the side, she then quickly gathered a fistful of the ribbed cotton of her tanktop in each hand before she tugged it up and over her head.

"Jesus," he whispered as he felt a hard tugging sensation behind his navel.

_Oh, damn, _a clearly impressed voice echoed in his brain. _I mean, I've always known she's got great tits. I got a real good look at 'em when we were in L.A. for that case where they found the body on the airport grounds and―oh, man―she was in that lab, jamming that plastic surgeon's instruments into clay, and she was wearing that, nnngth, white shelf tank-top thingy with that brown one over it, and they pushed those babies together like nobody's business, and they looked so fucking juicy and delicious I just wanted to put my finger in between 'em and_―_oh yeah. Aw, and then fuck, last year, there was that case on Halloween, and she was dressed up like Wonder Woman with that bustier that she was spilling out of all over the damn place. But this—oh, Jesus—I can just reach up and touch 'em. And I really wanna touch 'em, too. Fuck. God, what's she done to me? Fuck_―_and, unless I've caught some kind of delirium-inducing disease from the damn ticks around here, I think she wants me to touch 'em. I mean, that's why she's stripping in the middle of a goddamn national forest, right? She's doing it right in front of me, too...because she wants me? Does she really want me? I mean, after all this bullshit...is that it? Does she want me? And if she wants me, is she gonna whip off that bra of hers and take out those awesome ta-tas of hers because she wants me to touch them? Is that it? And, if it is...should I do it? 'Cause, I think I really want to...especially with her bouncing them up and down in front of me like that. Oh, yeah, baby_―_yeah._

Again tossing the second garment she'd removed and let fall to the ground, Brennan stared down at him clad in a mocha-colored cotton t-shirt bra with her hair still pulled into its ponytail through the Atlanta Braves ballcap she wore. Tilting her head as she looked at him and said, "Now, can you honestly tell me that you want to talk about Cam or your brother or any other thing but you and me being where we are about to do what we could be doing if you want to, that is, right now? Because, well―" she paused and gave him a wicked grin. "If you did, I'd know two things about you, Booth."

His voice was thick as he managed to rasp, "And what's that?"

"One," she said as she looked at him over the tip of her glasses, "I'd know that you were full of shit," she said. "And, two, the reason I'd know you were full of shit is because I'd know you'd be lying if you said you wanted to talk about anything more than you, me, and the fact that I'm straddling you in nothing but a bra, a pair of dirty cargo pants, and a pair of increasingly wet panties."

"Huh," he grunted, raising his arms and reaching around her back to unclasp her bra. At that moment, his mind was buzzing with a thousand thoughts, none of them worth articulating, although it didn't particularly matter, since his ability to formulate a coherent thought crumbled as soon as his mind caught up to her reference to her panties. _Her wet panties...that's what she said_―_awww, fuck._

She reached up and held his hand for just a fraction of a second.

"So, are you going to admit it finally?" she breathed, letting her fingers caress his arm.

"It?" he choked.

"You want me," she said pointedly. "Admit it. Say that you want me." _And, it's not just because I'm basically throwing myself at you or because I'm a half-naked female that's pressed up against you right now. _She again wiggled her ass in a tortuous slide across his groin. She could feel his erection pressing against her, and it made her a bit lightheaded. "Tell me," she insisted. "Tell me."

"Yeah I want you," he hissed, jerking his hips against her thighs. "I fucking want you." His breathing became harder and more irregular as his fingertips moved in tiny circles against the smooth fabric of her bra. "I want you. I've wanted you for a long time. And, hell, you've made an excellent case in defense of the idea that I should do something about it. Right about now. 'Cause, yeah, I want you. I really do."

"Me?" she insisted on clarification, stubbornness clear in her voice. "Tell me that _you _want _me _because I'm me and this is about us."

"What?" he choked. He grunted and shook his head in frustration. "Of course I want you because you're you and this is about us." He paused and a confused look furrowed his brow. "Why else―what are you even talking about? Why else would I want you?"

"You're not just doing this because I'm a female with a great pair of tits, to use your parlance, who's propositioned you?" she asked with an arched eyebrow.

"Well," he said with a spreading grin. "You do have a fucking great pair of tits, and you've propositioned me, but―no, that's not the only reason. Not by a fucking long shot."

"You sure about that?" she breathed. "Because you had your line, and this is mine―no going back from here if we go forward." She stopped as she tilted her head and said, "Are my signals clear enough?"

"Charlie Alpha Foxtrot Bravo, Bones," he laughed. "Clear as a fucking bell."

"Okay, then," she said with a soft laugh. "Then, now that we appear to be on the same page―what do you want to do here?"

Booth narrowed his eyes as he thought about it for a moment. "Put me in the game, coach," he grunted as he struggled to sit up and reached his hands around to unclasp her bra. As he did so, the cups loosened their hold on her breasts, and he stared for a moment at them before sliding his hands across her shoulder blades and pulling the straps of her bra off her shoulders. As the pale chocolate-colored cups fell away and she shrugged each of her arms out of the straps, he gasped at the sight of her rosy nipples. "Oh, fuck, Bones," he whispered, bringing his hands around to the front and palming the round underside of each breast, as weighing them with his hands. "I kinda always knew you had fantastic tits, but shit―" He squeezed them in his hands, dragging the calloused pad of his right thumb across her nipple.

Brennan sucked in a breath at the sensation. "Like what you see?" she asked, her question disappearing into a sharp gasp as he rolled the bud of her nipple between his rough thumb and forefinger. She leaned forward, bringing her chest closer to his face as the expression of open-mouthed awe on his lips quickly changed into a toothy, lascivious grin. "What you feel?"

"God, yes," he whispered as he closed his mouth around her pebbled flesh.

"Want to see more?" she breathed, her question quickly slipped into a moan as she rolled her head back and brought her fingers to the back of his head. Interlacing them at the base of his skull, she ran her fingers through his hair in an up and down motion at the same time she pressed him more firmly to her chest. "Oh, God, Booth―_unnnggglll_..."

"All," he sighed as he let her nipple fall away from his mouth. "I wanna see it all. I want it all. All of you...although, I gotta admit, Bones...do you know you taste funny?" He made a face as he smacked his lips together in a displeasing way.

Brennan outright laughed as she saw him spit out some of the bitter tasting concoction that he'd licked away from her body. "That's not me you're tasting," she chucked. "That's Deep Woods Off."

"What?" Booth muttered as he spat again. "Don't you know that stuff can cause cancer?"

"You're spitting it out, so I don't think we'll need to call the Center for Poison Control," Brennan pointed out. "You'll be fine."

Booth grumbled a bit more, and Brennan laughed a bit more before she spoke again, her tone more gentle than before. "Do...you...trust...me?" she breathed.

He hesitated for a brief moment. _You mean when you aren't trying to poison me, Bones_? "Yes," he finally answered.

Brennan twisted against him, eliciting a low hiss from him as the vague sensations he'd been feeling―which he'd held at bay for long enough―seemed to roar through the thin veil of his consciousness to overwhelm him.

Her hands came up and tugged at the edge of his shirt. Very quickly, as she pulled at the t-shirt, she looped the fabric so that she pulled the front of the shirt over his head and let it rest behind his neck, leaving his chest open to her itching fingers.

"You―you're not gonna take it off?" he gasped, rolling his shoulder a little at the way his arms were constrained by his shirt, though a tiny whisper in the back of his mind suggested that it might not be all bad to have things that way.

"I think," she said as she brought her hands to his chest and slowly raked parallel lines down over his pecs and through his torso in a straight line. "I'm quite content to work with what I've got here for now."

He sucked in a hard breath through his teeth. "Oh, fuck," he hissed, his hips squirming beneath her as the sensation made his groin tighten even further.

"I think can make it worth your while," she purred. "As a matter of fact, I'm fairly certain I can."

"Yeah?" he asked with an arched eyebrow.

"Lay down," she said firmly, the evil glint in her eyes knowing that Booth had already been sent to either heaven or hell―he just didn't know which. "Lay down...and I promise...it'll be worth it."

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><p><strong>AN: **_Yes, yes. We know. You want to kill us for ending the chapter there._

_But you know what that means. The next chapter's gonna be effin awesome. Which, of course, it will be. Totally epic. Because, true to classic Dharmasera form, that's where the good stuff is. Yeah, that good stuff. The kind that makes you blush._

_And, as if that next chapter weren't enough to entice you folks to leave a prompt and lovely review, do know that there's actually a Scenario #6 that's teed up and ready to go, entitled "_**Signs and Signals.**_" It's a one-shot (a really long, Dharmasera-style one-shot) that's the baseball-themed sequel to "That's Not A Rock." It's also B&B sexiness at its best, set at a baseball game._

_So, you know what to do. Tell us what you thought of this chapter. Leave a review, and we'll get that Part IV up in short order._

_Just click that little "review" button down there. Yes, that's the one. Uh-huh. Do it. All the cool kids are doing it._


	21. 21—That's Not A Rock, Pt IV

**A Very Bad Idea**

**By:** dharmamonkey & Lesera128

**Rated: **M

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><p><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>_Ummm, nope, we still don't own anything. We have, however, apparently become squatters in the sandbox that we crashed... so, umm...yeah. So there we go..._

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><p><strong>AN: **_So here we are. The long-awaited, totally epic and epically unf conclusion to the fifth "Very Bad Idea" scenario. _

_We've got some other stuff in the works, including "The Inquisitor," a piece you might've heard about if you follow _**dharmamonkey **_on Twitter. "Inquisitor" is Dharmasera's first major foray into blow-your-mind AU space. In "The Inquisitor," we send B&B back to mid-16th century England and drop them into the roles of a up-and-coming Catholic priest appointed to serve as an inquisitor during the reign of Queen Mary I and a talented young midwife accused of witchcraft. It'll be like Bones meets The Tudors meets The Thorn Birds, with a Dharmasera twist. So keep a lookout for that one. We've also got a couple of more VBI scenarios in the unfness-hopper. _

**Unf Alert: **_Yes, people. Where we go, unf follows. If you don't like unf, don't read on. Otherwise, get that glass of ice-water or NFPA-approved fire extinguisher ready, because this baby's gonna get pretty warm. Immediately, if not sooner._

_Enjoy!_

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><p><strong>V. That's Not A Rock, Part IV<strong>

**Pertinent Details on Scenario #5****: **Set during the episode 4x09: "Con Man in the Methlab."

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><p>For a period of time, Booth was almost convinced he'd died, and in the infinite wisdom of God's mercy, had apparently lived a good enough life that his heaven consisted of Brennan staring at him as if he was some type of irresistible dessert that she was going to devour in about two bites. And, as she stalked towards him with that devouring glint in her cool, blue eyes, Booth realized he had absolutely <em>no <em>problem with that idea whatsoever.

Carefully, Brennan reached out and let her hands go to his waist where she let her fingers linger for a moment. She wondered as to how long she might be able to hold out in her efforts to deliver on her promise to Booth of 'making it worth his while' if he complied with her request to lay down before she lost control and impaled herself on his stiff cock so that both of them might retain some semblance of sanity. Taking a breath, she absentmindedly bit her lip as she let the fingers of each hand trace the line of his waistband from the left and from the right until they met in the center. She then hesitated only for a moment before she reached for his belt buckle.

For his part, Booth looked on in hungry expectation as he waited to see what she would do and how. His right eye twitched as she reached for his belt buckle, teasing her index finger along the edge where his jeans met the soft, warm skin of his belly. His mouth dropped open, and he laid back, propping himself up at a slight angle on his elbows so he could watch her ministrations. As he shifted in the dry grass, ge felt something poke him in the lower back. It felt like a flat, rounded-edged stone of some kind hidden beneath the grass and dirt. But, the way she was touching him in that moment set his skin was on fire and completely distracted him. There was also a small part of his mind that feared she might stop touching him like she was only just starting to do if he did anything that interrupted their rhythm. The small rock was only mildly irritating and as he felt himself harden as she continued to touch him, he couldn't motivate himself to shift slightly so that he moved off of the spot where the stone was situated.

_I'm pretty damn sure I'd spend the rest of my life sleeping on stones if it means she'll keep touching me like this, _he thought. _Aww, fuck, this woman is gonna kill me with the way she's workin' me with those fingers. And I'm pretty damn certain if she does, I'm gonna die happy._

Brennan, for her part, was completely absorbed as she took in every detail of Booth's body, her fingers itching as they were finally free to touch him as she'd long dreamed she'd be able to do. She traced her finger in an S-shape in the flat, hard space between his pecs and down to his navel, drawing a feather-light circle with her fingertip around the rim of his navel, glancing up at him to observe his reaction. Noting his smile, Brennan lowered her head, brushing her lips against the skin of his upper abdomen, placing light kisses along the centerline of his _rectus abdominus._

"Your muscle tone is quite excellent, Booth," she whispered, laughing into his skin. "It's very, very pleasing."

"Awww, Bones, come on," he grumbled. "Stop squinting at me. It's killing the mood."

"Who says I was doing this for scientific curiosity?" Brennan said as she looked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. "Maybe I was just admiring the fact that you've got a great body."

Despite the fact of where they were and what they were doing, and what they were about to do, Booth flushed a bit at her compliment that he could now tell was said with a more prurient interest in mind.

"Errr―"

"You say something, Booth?" she said, obviously amused at his suddenly being tongue tied. "Or, am I just hearing things?" she murmured, dropping another couple of kisses on his belly before arriving at his navel.

"You, errr―must be hearing things," he finally croaked. _Because I sure as hell don't want you thinking I said anything that you might in your squinty wisdom might take as anything but me begging you to keep touching me. _He licked his lips as he watched her kiss his belly and felt every muscle in the lower half of his body twitch with anticipation. _Come on, baby, _he urged her on silently_. Lower. You can do it. You know what I want. What __you __want. Come on. Ohhh..._

Tilting her head so that her playful eyes met his, she smiled as she said, "That's a good thing then, because I'm already _definitely _in the appropriate mood and mindset to have sex, Booth, and I'd hate to have anything detract from that."

She then lowered her head and brushed her pursed lips across his belly button, unable to contain a chuckle as his muscles tightened under her touch. Then, without any warning, she opened her mouth and drew the point of her tongue along the firm, tight rim of his navel. He hissed, then on her tongue's second, slower pass, moaned quietly.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned. "Damn, Bones..."

She smiled as she felt his body arch to meet her mouth. Pulling her head up so that she could greet his eyes, she chuckled, "See? I told you I'd make it worth your while if you did as I asked, didn't I?"

"Ohh, yeah," Booth managed to grunt as he squeezed his eyes shut and gasped for breath. "Definitely."

"Now," she said, straightening up. "I think―" Her words fell away as Booth's eyes snapped open, and the only thing he could or wanted to see was her. As she put some distance between them, he moved to push himself up to follow her. Amused, Brennan quickly shook her head as she pushed him back down. "Nah uh," she said with a small clucking of her tongue. "You're not going anywhere. At least, not yet. So, you stay right there."

"But―" Booth immediately protested, his words coming out like sounding a bit too much like a petulant whine for both their likings. "Bones―"

"No," she smiled at him. "You stay right there."

Booth pouted his lips, his brow knit over his eyes as he tried to figure out what his partner was doing. _Not that it really makes a difference at the moment, because as long as she keeps touching me like this and making me feel this good, I don't really care._

"If you stay there," she offered, lowering her voice to a breathy whisper that sounded thick with an usual sweetness that Booth didn't think he'd ever heard before in her tone. "And, don't move, I'll do something I promise you will like. But―" she stopped and paused as she tilted her head and looked at him. "You can't move until I'm done. Deal?"

"Huh," he grunted as he narrowed his eyes at her in suspicion. "This sounds like one of those 'deals you can't refuse' kind of situations."

"You're just going to have to find out," Brennan said with a playful grin tugging at the edge of her lips. "You still interested?"

"Fuck, yes," he growled. "As if I'm gonna back out now. Yeah, right―"

"Okay, then," she said. Wagging her index finger at him, she smiled as she said, "Don't move, now."

Slowly, she stood up, arching her back forward as she stretched a bit, giving her partner a bird's eye view of her breasts as they heaved forward in response to her actions.

_Ohh...mmm...oh, Jesus...wow, those...ohhh...so nice. _Booth felt a strange tingling in his fingertips as he watched her breasts sway, and it took every bit of his self-control to keep from reaching up and cupping them in his hands. _If I'm dreaming, for the love of God and all His holy saints, please just don't let anything or anyone wake me._

Smiling again, she widened her stance as she was still straddling his hips, a foot firmly planted on either side of his body. Slowly, she brought her hand to the snap on her cargo pants. She licked her lips as she felt his eyes on her. With deft fingers, she unbuttoned the top one slowly followed by the second one. Tugging at the zipper, she slowly pushed it down. Her eyes never broke from his gaze as she reached to the waistband of her cargo pants, slowly pushed them off of her hips, and then peeled them down her legs inch by tortuous inch. Letting them pool at her ankles, her smile widened as she watched his intense gaze lap up every move she made.

"Better?" she asked with an arched eyebrow.

"Yeah," he nodded with clear admiration for her present in his voice. "But I gotta tell you, Bones, I'm sorta getting over the look-but-no-touch thing pretty quick here. How about we get some of that personal contact that we had going on over here before going on again? 'Cause I think as good as this is right now, it'd be even better if I could touch you―or if you'd start touching me again." He winced as he felt a hard tug in his belly as his balls tightened just watching her, his eyes skating along the full length of her smooth, ivory legs. "Or both." Brennan gave him a measured look as she seemed to be contemplating a response. Again, Booth flashed her a toothy grin as he nodded at her, "Please, Bones―come on. Help a guy out here, huh?"

"Soon enough," she nodded after another moment of silence and then gave him another teasing grin as she balanced on one foot, and untied her right field boot before she kicked it away and did the same thing with her left one. "Unless you just want to play with my tits all afternoon?"

"We're way past playing, I think," he said as he gave her a serious look. "Yeah, we're done playing, Bones. And if I know one thing, it's that I'm sure as fuck certain that I want more than just those tits of yours, even though they are absolutely fucking incredible―the question is...do you?"

"Yeah," she said with a sly smile. "I think so, too―hence me making things...uhhh, _easy _for you."

Her hands caressed her hips with the flat palm of her hand. She tugged at the waistband of her panties, her eyes dancing as she slowly slid them off of her body and let them fall to the ground. Toeing them away, she stood in front of him clad in only her thick white socks.

"Mmmm," Booth said in appreciation. "Who'd have thunk it that you were so easy, huh, Bones?" He snickered under his breath, amused at his own remark.

"So?" she asked, licking her lips as she stared at him with the want clear in her eyes. "Better?"

"Lose the socks," he grinned, "and it'll be _perfect_."

Brennan gave him a measuring look, he wagged his eyebrows at her, and she sighed. "Oh, fine," she told him. "But, if I get any fire-ant bites because of you, I'm going to be very displeased," she said as she reached down and pulled at the socks and dropped them silently beside him.

"That's a risk I'm willing to take," he said, his voice dark with lust at seeing her, finally, completely naked in front of him. "So, quit stalling and come 'ere, huh?"

Stalking towards him again, Brennan gave him a hungry look before she knelt down between his legs and reached for his pants.

Swallowing once, he watched her through heavy lidded eyes as she began to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his fly. He felt the desire to reach for her, and tried to do exactly that, but was frustrated in his range of movement. "Fuck," he grunted as he rolled his shoulders, but found he couldn't quite reach her.

Brennan's head snapped up as Booth cursed. Frowning at his tone of voice, she cocked an eyebrow at him. "What is it?" she asked.

"My shirt," he growled. "I can't move." He stopped moving and then told her, "Help me take this damn shirt off, now that you've damn near tied me up in it."

"Hmmmm," Brennan mused, her concern disappearing as she realized it was a mixture of mere frustration and impatience that drove his discontent. "I don't know. I kinda like that idea, I think."

"Figures as much," he muttered, reaching his arms up and struggling to pull the long-sleeved outer shirt off. Brennan watched him for a few minutes with the amusement clear in her eyes. A smile played on her face, and Booth scowled when he finally stopped struggling and looked at her with a sigh. "So, are you gonna just watch?" he asked. "Or are you into that, too?"

Chuckling, Brennan shook her head with a slight smile still tugging at her lips. Coming around behind him, she knelt and said, "Sit still for a minute."

Reaching over his shoulders, she brought her hands up as she reached for the shirt and gently tugged it off his broad and muscular chest. Tossing it to the side, she reached for the bunch of material that was at the back of his head, and gently popped the shirt over his head. Leaning back, she watched as his now free hands immediately went to the hem of the shirt and tugged it up and off of his body. Quickly rounding on her, she couldn't help but grin again as she saw him looking quite pleased with himself.

"Better?"

"Mmmmm," he murmured. "Much." His dark eyes narrowed as he watched to see if she would resume control of the pace of things.

"So," she nodded at him, her eyes dancing with merriment. "Just so that we're clear, before this trip is over, I promise that you'll have a very thorough education as to just exactly what I'm 'into,' sexually or otherwise...but before we get to that part, is this the point where you need me to give you some hand signals or something?"

"I'm assuming that you don't want me to hold at second base here, Bones," Booth said wryly.

Turning around, Brennan's eyes darted around the forest floor where their clothing was scattered.

"I don't suppose you remember where you dropped your jacket, huh?" she asked.

He shook his head response as he glanced around the clearing, saw nothing, and then shrugged. "I, uhh, must've dropped in on the trail or something when my partner decided she wanted to play hide-and-go-seek in the Ocala National Forest," he said with a grin.

She rolled his eyes as she muttered, "Yes, well, it's not like I think you've objected to the idea, right?"

Booth grinned at her as he saw her reach for his wrinkled overshirt. "I might be up for some hide-and-seek," he snorted. "But I think you know what I want to hide, and can make a pretty good guess as to where I wanna hide it."

Brennan looked up, rolled her eyes, and shot him a look, but refused to give his silly remark the dignity of a reply. Reaching for his blue shirt, she spread it out before she plopped down on it. Adjusting herself, she pulled her legs up to her chest. "Not great," she shrugged. "But, it'll do, I think." She paused, and then said, "But, I'm serious, Booth. If I get a single ant bite―"

"Enough with the bugs, huh," he said in a low growl. "You're the one who jumped me in the woods, Bones. Bug-bites sounds like assumption of the risk to me. If you get bit―by me or anything else―you're just gonna have to deal."

Brennan arched an eyebrow as she looked at him with a curious stare. "Is that so?" she questioned him.

"Yeah," he nodded with a sly grin on his handsome face. "Now, if you're done talking, then―"

"Okay," she grinned back at him. She let her legs fall open a bit as she raised an eye to see if she could tempt him into closing the distance between them. "Fine. We're done talking."

"Thank God," Booth growled.

"You said you wanted me, right, Booth?" Brennan asked as she felt the soft breeze of the cool March afternoon play across the soft skin of her inner thighs. She shuddered a bit as she lifted a finger and gestured at him to come closer. "Well, here I am...come and get me."

Booth blinked, then quickly stood up, his eyes never for a moment moving from her body, which lay before him, languid and willing. He frowned, realizing his hiking boots were still tightly cinched, too tight to simply toe off, so he leaned over and roughly untied them, jerking the laces as he watched her facial expression out of the corner of his eye. After finally pulling off his shoes and socks, he stood back up and, looking down at her with a wide, cocky grin, shoved his jeans and underwear off his hips in a single fluid motion. He slid out of them, kicking them to the side―a fleeting thought racing through his mind as he hoped that none of the fabled ants would decide to take up residence in his Levis while he was otherwise engaged―then, finally naked, knelt down at Brennan's feet as she let her legs fall lightly closed.

"Hmmm," she said as she let her her eyes roam up and down his body. Meeting his eyes, she lifted her hand and gestured at him with her index finger one more time. "So, you ready now or what?"

He swallowed, then crawled forward on all fours until he straddled her with an arm on each side of her waist. "Yeah," he said in a low voice that made her tingle with the roughness of it. "You ready?"

Reaching out for him, she closed her eyes when her hands made contact with the warmth of his skin. "If wanting is readiness, I've been ready for you for a long, long time―I just didn't know it," she breathed.

He groaned and shook his head with a smile as he reached over with one arm to nudge her legs open. "Hmmm..." Feeling no resistance as her legs fell open once more, he moved quickly to place his hips between her knees. Booth felt a raw surge of energy at the base of his spine but he shook away the impulse to just take her, then and there. He saw a subtle flicker in her eyes, then leaned forward, his chest looming over hers as his lips hovered just inches from hers. "You want me?" he asked with a crooked grin.

"Let's just put it this way," she said as she smiled at him. "I, uhhh, I may have come to a moment of realization earlier this week. But, the realization of the wanting was the only new thing―not the wanting itself."

Booth blinked, his mouth falling open as a gush of warmth surged through his chest. _Seriously? _His cheeks flushed at the thought. _All that time? All these months? Maybe years? She wanted me all that time, and I didn't know it? Wow. Well, color me clueless, huh? How about that? Way to go, Booth. Better late than never, you clueless fuck._

"I've wanted you for years," Booth admitted honestly. "And I realized that a long time ago." He shook his head. "It's just it took me all this time to realize it that I was..." He laughed at the irony of it. "I was fucking cock-blocking myself, you know?" Raising his chin with a wide smile, he tilted his head to the side and blinked as the bright sunlight assaulted his eyes while he looked at her face.

"Well," she chuckled as she realized how pleased his words made her feel as warmth flooded through her body all over again. "You can start making that egregious oversight right, I think, if you get your cute ass over here and stick that tongue of yours down my throat. Are you...what's the word...game?"

Booth's happy smile turned to a crooked, lascivious grin as his brown eyes darkened to coal in the space of a second or two. A growl sounded from deep in his chest as he leaned over and covered her mouth with his. Wrapping her hands around his head once more, she pulled him to her as he pressed his body against hers, their tongues dueling in a sweet contest of lust, desire, and pure want.

When his mouth slipped away from hers just long enough so that he could draw breath, Brennan gasped, "God―"

Booth clenched his eyes shut for a moment and opened them again, trying to even his heavy breaths as he admired his partner's soft, plump, bee-stung lips and the slight rosy blush on her cheeks. He leaned back and stroked the back of his hand over the nest of neat curls that covered her cleft. She was soaked, he could tell.

"You're ready, aren't you, huh?" he asked with an excited glint in his eyes. "You want it, do ya?"

"Not just it―" she shook her head softly, her tone somewhat different as she let her words trail off as she didn't respond to the aggressiveness of Booth's words. "If I just wanted sex, I could've, but I didn't...I-I...I―that's just not it, okay? You," she whispered. "It's you―I want _you_. Just you."

It wasn't just Booth's cock that hardened at hearing those words come from her mouth. His resolve was steeled at hearing her say those words, and any doubts that he had were quickly chased away as her cool eyes, now darkened with want, drilled into him.

"I want you, too," he told her quietly as he parted her legs wider with a gentle shove of his forearm.

As her legs parted, he saw her wet, swollen core open to him, and he was helpless to resist any thought other than that of burying himself into her as deeply as he could, as quickly as he could. He uttered not even a murmur between the moment her legs parted and when he lined himself up to her soft, creamy opening. He took a long breath, rolled his hips back then pressed into her, steadily and evenly until he was seated, balls-deep, inside of her deliciously wet warmth.

As she felt him slide into her, she groaned and closed her eyes as she wrapped her legs around his back. "Oh, God," she repeated, in a small voice, as he pushed further inch-by-tortuous-inch. "God, Booth―"

At feeling her hot, moist flesh part for him, his mouth fell open, and his eyes closed shut, until the only thing that in that moment seemed real was the hot, slippery tightness that enveloped him. He pressed into her slightly before pulling away again, then tucking his chin low against his chest, rocked his hips back and drove into her again, harder and more insistent, again and again as he fell into a comfortable, if not vaguely raw, rhythm.

After a time, she felt herself becoming lost in the swirl of skin-on-skin, the roar of her thundering heartbeat in her ears, and the musky scent of Booth and sex enveloping her.

As Brennan felt the steadily increasing buzz of her impending orgasm, she let her head lull to the side for a bit until she knew that if she didn't stop now, she wouldn't be able to―

_Got to tell him_, the errant thought echoed in her mind. _Now_. _Have to tell him. Have to tell him __now__. _Slowing her movements, and using what strength she had left, she lifted her head to meet his glazed over but questioning gaze.

"Booth?"

"Uhh," he said, blinking himself back, reluctantly, to the realm of rational thought. "Ummm...what?" he grunted as he rocked into her.

"Have to―" she blinked, trying to gain a coherent strand of thought. Licking her lips, she shook her head as she tried to clear her mind. "Have to tell you―" her words trailed off as she struggled to breathe and think and speak all at the same time and found she was failing miserably.

"Bones―" His whisper came out nearly as a whine as he stilled his movements, his hips and arms quivering as he wanting nothing more than to move again.

"No," she said, her resolve increasing. "I have to...tell you―" She swallowed once, and suddenly mentally cursed as she felt a wave of nervousness penetrate the haze that sex had caused to settle so happily over her brain.

"What is it, baby?" he asked, his brow furrowing the moment he realized what he'd said. "Umm..."

"I need you to know―" she breathed, her voice becoming quiet and cracked, as she ignored the term of endearment. "Now...I-I..."

"What is it?" he asked again, embattled between the twin desires to hear whatever it was she was suddenly so desperately wanting to say, on the one hand, and on the other, to go back to driving into her as deliciously and as firmly as he was before.

"I love you," she said, her voice small and no more than a whisper. However, her eyes burned bright and reaffirmed the strong emotion she felt as she'd spoken the words.

Booth felt his heart stop and his breath catch in his throat. "Wha―?

"I..." she swallowed again. Her voice was still small as she looked at him and she said in a very soft whisper, "I-I...I said I love you."

"Bones, I―" Booth was stunned and felt nearly as if the wind had been knocked out of him. "Do you really?" he asked, cringing a little at his own question.

"I just...I just wanted to tell you―" she said, some of the resolve coming back into her voice. "Now, and not later. I just wanted you to know before―"

Booth nodded, and before he would let her finish, leaned in with a lopsided grin, brushing his lips against hers a couple of times. "Mmmmm," he murmured, then kissed her, at first gently and then more insistently, his tongue desperately seeking access the warm, soft sweetness of her mouth. She saw his grin, and felt his laughter echo from within his chest into her own, and in that moment, she opened her mouth to him and they kissed, deeply and greedily, until it was no longer clear who was kissing whom. "You're amazing," he whispered under his breath.

"Mmmmm," she moaned into his cheek. "Move," she pleaded. "Now―please move now."

"Mmmm-kay," he murmured as he drew his hips back and slid into her, slowly and smoothly for the first several strokes before falling once more into a hard, persistent rhythm.

With each stroke, he felt himself drowning in her―in the smooth, silky feel of her tight folds, in the soft moans that escaped her lips with each pounding stroke, in the rich yet unique scent of her sweet sweat mixed with the pungent vanilla and almond fragrance of her body wash mixed with the crisp cleanliness of her apple-scented shampoo, insect repellent and the coconut-scented sunblock she'd sprayed on her body before almost being completely drowned out by the musky smell of their mutual arousal combined as it was with the scent of their lovemaking. And, then of course, there was the delicious taste of her mouth, which he swore tasted so much better and sweeter than it ever had before. Each grind of his hips propelled him deeper into the spiral of his own release, and deeper into her, and soon it was apparent that he could no more get out of her than he could get out of his own skin. As he stroked deep into her, he knew they were one, and probably had been for a long, time, though it took the two of them a long time to figure out. As her rich, wet warmth swallowed him up so completely, he knew he was hers―completely.

"Bones," he whispered reverently. "Oh, Bones..."

"Fuck," she moaned softly into his ear. "Oh, _fuuuuccck_, _Booo-thhhh_."

As he felt her tighten around him, he knew he was spiraling rapidly towards his own release. "Oh, Jesus, Bones...ohhh...fuck..."

Whatever threads of coherent thought were left intact in the web of Booth's mind, there was only one thought that had not yet fractured under the onslaught of mind-wreckingly incredible pleasure that was consuming him. _God, I love her. I...I love her. I...I-I think I need to tell her, but...should I? I don't want to scare her, not here...not now. What would she do? Would she get scared? Would she run? I just...wait, she loves me. I know she does. She already told me she does. She does! She really loves me. But, does she know? Does she know how I feel about her? She has to, right? But, if she doesn't...it's too important not to...I need to tell her...before..._

Booth slowed his pace just a bit, just enough to allow his mind the space to form the words he knew he needed to say. He continued to stroke up and into her, and as he tried to think, he felt his balls tighten as his release was just beyond his grasp.

"Bones," he grunted. "I love you, Bones." He looked into her eyes, and seeing the flicker in her eyes as she tightened around him and shattered, he knew he was home, and so he too let himself fall apart in her arms. "I...love...you," he whispered as his release pulsed into her. "Just you. Only you."

"Ohhh," she moaned, leaning her head back as she savored the feeling of his warmth spreading through her with each spurt.

Booth pushed deeply one last time as he emptied the last of himself into her. "Oh my God, Bones," he murmured, his head dropping so that their foreheads touched. "Sweet heavens, you're incredible," he sighed, pulling away from her slightly and bringing his lips to her forehead, pressing a soft kiss against her warm, sweat-damp brow. "Beautiful..." He kissed her forehead again. "Brilliant..." He smiled against the silky skin of her temple. "Adorable..."

"Adorable?" she said as she quirked an eyebrow at him, her chest still heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. "Me? Adorable? I don't know about—"

"Heh," he laughed, nuzzling his nose against her cheek before bringing his lips to hers. "Then...how about incorrigible?"

Brennan's brow furrowed as she considered his second adjective. "I'm incorrigible?" she asked, returning his soft kiss. "Mmmm, no. I don't think so. I'm not incorrigible. _You're _incorrigible."

"No," he whispered, grinning as he chased her plump, bee-stung lips for another quick kiss. "I'm just plain ol' stubborn."

Deciding she wanted not only the last word, but the last kiss, Brennan reached for his lightly-stubbled jaw and pulled his lips against her once more, drawing him into a deep, passionate kiss before breaking away. "That," she said. "I'll accept."

Booth chuckled, a slight wince tightening his features as he leaned back and slipped out of her. "What were we thinking?" he asked absently.

Brennan's flushed skin suddenly paled. "Are you—?" Her face slackened and a frown tugged at her lips. "Do you regret what we—?"

"No..." he said, shaking his head. "God, no. I just mean—what were we thinking that we waited so long to do this?" A wide grin broke across his face and he flashed his eyebrows. "Because that was awesome. Amazing. Hoo-boy." He sat back on his haunches, trying to catch his breath. He narrowed his eyes and crinkled his brow. "Did you hear something?" he asked.

Brennan's eyes widened. "I don't know who it could be, but I think someone's coming," she said quietly. "We better get dressed."

"Oh, fuck," Booth muttered through gritted teeth as he reached for his jeans.

They quickly glanced around the grassy forest clearing, gathering up their clothing and hastily dressing as a group of male voices seemed to get closer and closer. As they quickly pulled their pants, shirts, and shoes, it wasn't exactly clear from which direction the voices were approaching, since the sounds seemed to echo through the trees.

"Damn it," Brennan hissed as she hastily clasped the bra around her back.

Brennan had just pulled her top over her belly and knelt down to tie her field boots when three men on horseback emerged from the copse of trees on the far side of the clearing. She rolled to the side and grabbed Booth's overshirt, tossing it to him as he buckled his belt. Hesitating, she remained in the shadow cast by a group of sandhill pines.

"Booth," she whispered, shooting him a glare and gesturing towards the men with a jerk of her chin.

"Right," he said quietly, straightening his gray T-shirt as he stood up. He tripped over a stone, thankful in that moment for his hiking boots, without which he was sure he would have sprained his ankle. "Fucking rock," he muttered.

"That's not a rock," she said with a faint smile. "It's a footstone." She saw his face blanch and added by way of explanation, "This must be an extension of the pioneer cemetery we passed on the way."

Booth's eyes widened. "Wait, what?"

"A footstone," Brennan clarified with a thoughtfulness coming into her voice. "You know, it's used to mark the boundaries of a burial. I can't say for certain since the headstones we saw earlier seemed to be moved haphazardly. But, it's possible that―"

"Bones, wait a minute," Booth said. "You don't mean—no, we didn't just—in a _cemetery_?"

He closed his eyes and mentally crossed himself. _Oh Lord, _he cringed. _I may have to go to confession on the way home from the airport. But,_ he added with a sly smirk crossing his face, _even if we did, it was totally worth it._

Brennan arched an eyebrow and then shrugged her shoulders slightly. "Like I said, I can't say for certain, but it's a distinct possibility."

"Great," he muttered. "Just great." He opened his mouth to say something else, but was interrupted when the source of the sounds they'd heard earlier became clear. "Hey," he said awkwardly to the three cowboys who swiftly pulled their horses to a halt the moment they saw a shock of dark brown hair emerge from the patchy beargrass along the edge of the clearing.

The leader of the trio, or rather the one Booth guessed was the leader among them since his horse stood a bit in front of the other two, tipped his hat up as he looked down skeptically at Booth.

"Hey," the cowboy snorted with an open-mouthed grin. "Ummm, you might want ta do somethin' there 'bout that—" His voice trailed off as he stared at Booth's crotch.

Booth looked down and realized his fly was wide open. He quickly reached down to zip himself up as Brennan stood and leveled a hard stare at the three riders, her hands on her hips.

"Y'all shouldn't be here," the man said, tilting his well-worn straw cowboy hat and biting down hard on the toothpick he held between his nicotine-stained teeth in a stereotypical image of a Florida cracker. "This here's private property."

Booth swallowed hard, his brain still a bit addled in the wake of his encounter with Brennan, but after a few breathless moments, his wits returned to him. He reached down and pulled his badge from his belt. "I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth with the FBI," he said firmly, his jaw rigid as he noted the lever-action Winchester rifle tucked into a holster on the side of the cowboy's saddle, the buttstock resting in front of his knee. Booth propped his hand on his hip, just inches away from his holstered Glock 23.

Brennan glanced over at her partner and knew she needed to say something to end what she heard Angela once refer to as a Mexican standoff—which term never made much sense to her, but in that moment, she didn't really care.

"We know that," she suddenly interjected herself into the conversation between the two men. "This is the McGreetie Ranch, isn't it?"

The older rancher nodded. "It is, ma'am."

"We were with Ranger Tobin earlier today," she said in a low, even voice. "We're two personnel from D.C. that the state of Florida requested for a consultation on the remains that were found about a half-mile from here."

"Oh, yeah, Will," one of the two younger men pipped up. "Remember, Jack told us that camper found the dangler in the tree on the edge of the federal forest border?"

"Oh, yes," the older man said with a nod. "I remember now."

"We were examining the remains earlier, and apparently took a wrong turn on the trail and so we decided to take a rest before heading back to the main path," Brennan added as the older man looked at her in an apprising way.

"Ranger Tobin's a good man," the old cowboy said, narrowing his eyes once more and turning his horse away from Booth so that he faced Brennan. "Where y'all tryin' to get ta?"

"Back to the Ranger Station," she said, shooting Booth a glare in response, in reply to which he slid his hands into his pockets.

"Sure thing," the rider said with a nod.

Glancing back to the two riders behind him, who Brennan presumed were his sons or nephews, he gave her a smile before he proceeded to give detailed instructions about how to get back to the Ranger Station where the cars were parked.

* * *

><p>The interior of the hotel suite was dark and cool.<p>

The air conditioner was set a bit lower than Booth normally would've preferred, but considering three very crucial points, he wasn't complaining. First, the king-sized bed was littered with twisted sheets and various blankets that he could always choose to use to snuggle under when he was cold. Second, there was little chance of him actually having much of an opportunity to get cold since he'd spent most of the past fourteen hours occupied in very enjoyable, but very physical pursuits that worked up more than a bit of a sweat. Third, and most importantly, the amount of body heat that a naked Dr. Temperance Brennan could generate apparently was quite substantial as Booth could now personally verify because she was now twined around his chest, one leg snaked between his, as she pressed against him.

Booth grinned a bit as he let himself indulge one more time in the feeling of luxury in which he'd allowed himself to enjoy since he and Brennan had finally made it down Interstate 75 (south) to Interstate 4 (east) and to her hotel in the heart of what was known as the Walt Disney World Resort. Recalling their arrival approximately twelve hours earlier, Booth remembered how he'd breathed a sigh of relief when they'd driven past the I-4 exit where his would-be hotel (Haines City's Holiday Inn Express) was located, and he realized just how far away from Brennan it had actually been when they drove another half hour in fairly heavy traffic to just get to one of the first exits to Disney World—the location of the hotel suite to which Brennan had checked in the previous day when she arrived in Florida long before Booth had managed to finally make it to the Sunshine State from D.C.

The Walt Disney World Resort covered over 30,000 acres, or 47 square miles, that spanned two counties (Orange and Osceola). What most people who'd never visited Florida before never realized was that Disney World wasn't located in the city of Orlando, but was actually situated about 21 miles southwest of the city's downtown. The tourist traffic usually remained confined to the west side of the tri-county area so that most locals could avoid the horrors of the International Drive to Disney sprawl if they wished. The day before, Brennan had checked into one of the spacious deluxe suites at the hotel her publicist had managed to procure a reservation for on short notice. The Grand Floridian Resort and Spa was one of thirty-three hotels and resorts owned and operated by the Walt Disney Corporation. One of the area's larger hotels, with over 867 rooms and situated near the Magic Kingdom, the twenty-five year-old resort was designed to resemble a luxurious Victorian seaside resort.

However, Booth and Brennan had noticed very little of thepretty pointed red-shingled points on the massive roof that covered the bright white hotel exterior. From the moment Booth had driven the SUV they'd borrowed from McCann into the hotel arrivals valet parking line, he'd had eyes only for Brennan. For her part, Brennan had managed enough self-control to divide her focus between keeping an eye on Booth and retrieving Booth's suitcase from the back of the truck since she knew neither one of them would be returning to it in the foreseeable future.

Her instincts had proven sound by virtue of the fact that they'd yet to actually leave the hotel suite once in the past fourteen hours. Booth stretched out his back a bit against the softness of the bed's mattress, taking a deep breath as he tried to make sense of what in the hell had actually happened to him in such a short period of time.

_I don't know what I did to get this damn lucky_, he mused. _But, whatever it was_—_damn...I want to do it again, because this is so friggin' awesome, it's not even funny._

Allowing himself the chance to think about his excellent turn of luck as he laid in bed and enjoyed the feeling of having Brennan so warm and pliant near him, he tried to figure out what might be the next best thing to do to spend their time. Booth was leaning towards suggesting that they stop by one of the hotel's shops and see what type of makeshift swimwear they might be able to procure since the hotel had two heated pools.

_And that one with a beach and waterfalls and slides did look totally __awesome_, Booth thought.

Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was about ten o'clock in the morning. Shifting slightly in bed, he reached over and began to trail a wet line of kisses down the curve of Brennan's neck to her to her shoulder.

"Bones," he murmured into her ear in-between kisses. "Wakey, wakey, Bones."

Booth's ministrations were rewarded with a small groan from Brennan who pressed herself more tightly into his body.

"Bones," he tried again, nibbling on her earlobe as he did.

"What?" a groggy voice eventually graveled.

"Wake up, Bones," Booth said with another kiss that he planted on the curve of her ear.

"Tired," she said. "I'm not ready for another go yet, Booth."

Chuckling lightly, he placed another kiss on her brow. "I'm not waking you up for sex, Bones," he said with a smirk.

"Then, what are you waking me up for?" Brennan asked through a yawn as she blinked open her eyes and turned her head to stare at him.

"I'm thinking maybe we should get out of the room for a bit," Booth said. "Maybe stretch our legs and give housekeeping a chance to clean the room?" He arched his eyebrow as he thought about how the room must smell after the way they'd made use of it in the foregoing fourteen hours. _But it's not like it's the first time they've walked into a room that smelled like sex and sweat._

Sitting up, Brennan considered his words and said, "Hmmmmmm..."

"I was thinking that maybe we could go hit that little shop with the cute bikinis in the window in the lobby and then maybe hit the pools?" Booth said with a tempting lilt to his voice. "So, what do you think, huh, Bones? You, me, a hot little black string bikini, a couple of fruity beverages with those little umbrellas in 'em, some fun in the Florida sun...and we'll see what happens?"

Glancing at the clock, Brennan's brow furrowed as she said, "I think I'm amenable to the idea of spending some leisure time outside."

"Great!" Booth said as he sat up and unhooked his leg from Brennan. "So, why don't we get dressed, we can hit that shop...oh, and sunscreen. We need to get some sunscreen so I can rub it all over you—"

"No," Brennan said with a shake of her head.

As soon as the single word was out of her mouth, it was like she'd taken Booth's favorite toy away from him or popped his red balloon out of spite. Frowning, he pouted. "But, why? Come on, Bones."

"That is," Brennan quickly amended as she reached out and gave him a smile, "I have another idea. We can go to the pool later. But, for now, I believe if we dress, there's still some 'fun in the Florida sun' to be had...and you can even put some sunscreen on me if that would make you happy since we'll be outside, and with my fair skin tone, in this high sun/high humidity environment, I'll definitely need the protection of at least a 45 SPF. And, so will you now that I think about it." As she continued to talk, Brennan slipped from the bed. She arched her back as she stretched a bit and yawned once more before she looked down at her body. "You know, Booth, all things considered, it's quite fortunate that none of us seemed to have gotten any ant bites after all. Perhaps it's the time of year that's made them less aggressive. We should remember to make a note to ask Dr. Hodgins—"

"Bones," Booth whined slightly as he pulled his knees towards him, tossing the sheet of off his legs. "No offense, but the last thing on my mind is calling the squint squad for the finer points of the creepy crawlies that we managed to avoid yesterday in spite of ourselves, okay?" Standing up, he walked around to her and then lightly pulled her to him, placing his hands on the soft swell of each hip as he quirked an eyebrow at her. "Now, look—I'm not certain what kooky idea you've got in that genius egghead brain of yours, but if it is what I think it is, I don't really want to—"

"What?" Brennan interrupted him, her curiosity piqued to see if he'd finally remembered a crucial bit of information that she'd shared with him only as a taunt in the heat of the moment.

"What do you mean what?" Booth asked, suddenly confused.

"What do you think it is that I want us to do?" Brennan asked.

"Well, we're in Orlando, Bones...staying in this epically awesome hotel suite of yours...at Disney World," Booth said.

"Yes," Brennan nodded, smiling as she thought Booth seemed to have remembered after all. "I need to call the concierge to make certain he can still get the car to take us from here to the park, because I don't really relish the idea of taking the courtesy shuttle."

"Awww, Bones," Booth complained as he made a face. "Do we really have to? I mean, seriously, if we go there, we're gonna get all tired and stressed out and later on, when the most magical and happiest place on earth is this bed with you and me in it, we're gonna be too wiped out to do anything. So, let's just skip the park, huh? We can come back later with Parker. It's more fun when you have a kid to take anyway—"

"True," Brennan said. "But, my tickets are for today, and I don't think we'd be able to make arrangements to get Parker back down here again before the season is over and regular play starts in April."

"Wait—what?" Booth asked, blinking at her several times. "What do you mean season...regular play?"

"And, honestly, as long as we take proper precautions, the game shouldn't last more than two or three hours, Booth," Brennan continued, almost as if she hadn't heard a word he said. "We'll still have plenty of time to return to go swimming at both pools if you wish before we reconvene here to change before we get dinner and complete the evening with another round or two of sexual intercourse." Crossing her arms, she tilted her head as she said, "Now, what issue do you have with that plan again?"

However, besides the words 'sexual intercourse', which, after wincing slightly at her choice of words, a part of Booth's brain had filed away for future reference, only one word had stuck in his mind from Brennan's explanation. "Game?" he asked her.

"Yes," Brennan nodded. "I told you...I bought tickets to the Pirates/Braves game at the Wide World of Sports."

"Really?" Booth asked, more than a touch of excitement coming into his voice. "You weren't kidding about that?"

"No," she said with a shake of her head. "What else would I want to do in Florida in March at Disney? Not go to the theme parks, I can assure you. I find them too distracting and exhausting. Besides, I hate waiting in lines."

"You have tickets to a spring training game today?" Booth asked again.

Slowly, Brennan nodded her head. "Yes."

"And, you want to take me with you?" he questioned her.

Again, Brennan nodded. "Yes," she repeated. "I _always _had a ticket for you. I was just...well, to be honest, I just said I didn't earlier because you were being such a dick about things."

"Yeah, well," Booth said with a cheeky grin. "I'm sorry about that...ya know, me not pulling my head out of my ass sooner and all."

"It's okay," Brennan said as she returned his smile. "Since we did eventually get everything straightened out."

"Yeah," Booth said, his grin widening. "We sure did."

As he pulled her in for another kiss, Booth said quietly, "You're really going to take me to a spring training game today, Bones?"

Chuckling she said, "Yes. If we don't get distracted, and you don't make us late for the game by initiating another round of sexual intercourse, which I'm not certain I'm quite up to yet anyway after our exertions last night." Booth flushed a bit as he gave her a sheepish smile. Brennan inclined her head at him as she added, "And, I wasn't lying about the tickets I have to the Phillies/Braves game the day after tomorrow in Clearwater...if you behave yourself between now and then."

"Define 'behave'," Booth retorted saucily, punctuating his response with a waggle of his eyebrows.

Brennan shot him a look, and Booth's grin widened. "Hmmm...spring training games and a hot woman in my bed. And, here I was thinking Florida had nothing on Hawaii."

"So, I take it to mean you approve of my idea then?" Brennan asked.

"My girl wants to take me to a spring training game—" Booth merely smiled as Brennan rolled her eyes at his colloquial statement of ownership. "It sounds like a plan to me."

"Good," Brennan said before she lightly kissed him on the lips. "Then, let's get dressed so we're not late, shall we?"

"God, I love you," Booth grinned at her. "But, okay, Bones. We'll do things your way...but just this once since you did buy me baseball tickets."

Brennan shot him another look before she sighed and shook her head in slight exasperation. Booth countered by moving to kiss her again. Melting against him a bit, Brennan let him pull her in for one last kiss with a definitive hope that they wouldn't be late and miss batting practice after all—even if Booth _was _a very good kisser.

* * *

><p><em><strong>The End<strong>_

(for scenario #5)

_**To Be Continued**_

(for the series)

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><p><strong>AN: **_So, that's how it ends. And as usual, all's well that ends well, right?_

_Well, it's not quite over, actually, because Brennan did hook them up with the tickets to that Braves/Phillies game in Clearwater. Because you know it's not gonna be just peanuts & Cracker Jacks. You know how we roll. And wouldn't that be an epic thing to read about, in the wake of the epic awesomeness that you just read? _

_Speaking of the epic awesomeness you just read (/cocky button off), we'd really love to know what you thought of this. So, before you run off to read something else or take that cold shower (did you need one?), please, tell us what you think._

_Yep, click that ol' reliable review button down there and let the lovely ladies of Dharmasera Inc. know what you thought of this piece. Because we've got a one-shot (Dharmasera's very first!) followup to this piece, "Signs and Signals" in the can, ready to go, but we'd like to know what you thought of this bad boy before we completely blow our wad and post that sequel. (See, even our A/Ns are M-rated, LOL!)_

_Anyway, please. Leave us a review. Press that wee review button down there. That's right. You know the one._

_Thanks!_


	22. 22—Signs and Signals

**A Very Bad Idea**

**By:** dharmamonkey & Lesera128  
><strong>Rated: <strong>M

**Disclaimer: **Ummm, nope, we still don't own anything. We have, however, apparently become squatters in the sandbox that we crashed... so, umm... yeah. So there we go...

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><p><strong>AN: **_This piece stands as proof that Dharmasera Inc. can actually write a true one-shot. (Of course, it's not a short one-shot but it's a one-shot nonetheless.)_

_It's also probably worth noting, for those who are familiar with the various spring training facilities, that almost all of the 'colorful' details in this fic are realistic to the best of the authors' abilities. However, in the interests of artistic license―since it really did make a better story_―_the description of some services, facilities, and general atmosphere observations are an amalgamation of Bright House Field in Clearwater (home of the Philadelphia Phillies), Osceola County Stadium in Kissimmee (home of the Houston Astros), Joker Marchant Stadium in Lakeland (home of the Detroit Tigers), and Champion's Stadium at the Wide World of Sports at Disney World in Orlando (home of the Atlanta Braves). Just FYI. _

_And apologies to our European readers who may find this piece slightly baffling in places given all of the baseball references. Read on, if only for the unf bits, Brennan snark and Boothy brainspace._

**Unf Alert: **_Yes. There will be unf. _If you don't like that kind of thing, we wonder (a) why the heck you put this story on alert, and (b) why you're still reading this A/N and not hitting that browser back button already. If you dig the unfness, then read on, our friends. Read on. _And because this is a one-shot, we can't even drag you through a bunch of angst before leaving you to your just reward. Enjoy!_

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><p><strong>VI. Signs and Signals<strong>

**Pertinent Details on Scenario #6****: **Set during season 4. This piece is a sequel to Scenario # 5 of "A Very Bad Idea" AKA "That's Not a Rock." What follows will probably make more sense if you've read Scenario #5.

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><p>The spring training home of the Philadelphia Phillies was the picturesque Gulf Coast beach community of Clearwater. Located on the west coast of Florida, approximately twenty minutes northwest of the city of Tampa, Clearwater was well-known for its sandy white beaches and picturesque sunsets. However, for approximately five weeks beginning at the end of February and lasting until the end of March, it became known for something else besides its beaches and somewhat infamous status as a foothold of the Church of Scientology. For those five weeks, Spring Training fever took over Clearwater, as it did most of the state of Florida as the frenzy of the Grapefruit League took hold of the state.<p>

Clearwater had served as home to the National League East Philadelphia Phillies since 1947. For many years, the Phillies home away from home was first the Clearwater Athletic Field and later the renowned Jack Russell (Memorial) Stadium. However, in 2002, the city knew its well-known, but dated, spring training facilities were in sorry need of an update. Ground was broken on what was to be the new home of the Phillies on October 16, 2002, and the inaugural season for the new Bright House Field opened in February 2004 after a reported $28 million had been spent on its construction.

It was to Bright House Field that Booth and Brennan had driven in a rental car from their hotel at Disney World in Orlando, across the approximate 120-mile schlep down Interstate-4 west to Interstate-275 south before taking the exit for Highway 60 that would bring them across the Courtney Campbell Causeway, onto the always-under-construction―and thus congested―Route 19, and north to the ballpark. The early March afternoon proved to be almost perfect weather for the ballgame. The sun was shining and puffy white cumulus clouds dotted the sky. A steady breeze seemed to predict that many balls might find their way over the right field wall if pitchers weren't careful as to how they were throwing the balls across the plate. All in all, it was a perfect day for baseball if a bit cool with a forecasted high of 68F degrees.

Given how each things had been going between Booth and Brennan during the previous forty-eight hours since their impromptu sexual encounter in a historic pioneer cemetery within the borders of Ocala National Forest, it seemed that finally sleeping together had made things almost too cheerful between them. Granted, the majority of those past forty-eight hours had been spent in Brennan's deluxe hotel suite at the Grand Floridian where they'd spent much of the past two days eating, enjoying the hotel's amenities (_read: _pool, bar, and restaurants) before retiring to the room for what was becoming an almost gratuitous amount of sex before the process started all over again. The second day had been broken up by Brennan's insistence that they use her tickets to see the Atlanta Braves play the Pittsburgh Pirates. After she'd produced yet another Atlanta Braves jersey―and downed several Advil to ease the ache that her extracurricular activities with Booth had wrought in the form of mildly discomfiting muscle strain―Brennan had been ready to experience her first actual spring training game that she'd been able to attend in several years.

And, while the seats at Disney World's ESPN Wide World of Sports Champion's Stadium had been good seats, they weren't quite the box seats that Brennan had promised. Still, when the Braves won 5 to 2 over Pittsburgh, it had put her in a rather good mood that resulted in her not protesting when Booth told her that he wanted to drive the rental car from Orlando to Clearwater. During the drive, she'd even gotten him to admit (in rather feigned reluctance) that his successful, but impromptu trip to Florida had turned out to be a better vacation than his failed, but planned trip to Hawaii could ever have been.

However, the pair perhaps should've known that their idyll was at an end when they arrived at the stadium, and Brennan all but demanded that they pay $20 for valet parking. Booth had grumbled, Brennan had insisted, and ultimately, in a gesture of goodwill―with the hopes that he wouldn't spoil her rather upbeat mood―Booth had conceded the point to her with one final comment about highway robbery.

The second point of contention came when Brennan took out their tickets, and they were clearly ushered away from the traditional throng of fans towards a more illustrious part of the park. And, that was how Booth found himself staring at the field from one of the reserved private luxury boxes, with a small frown on his face. Brennan, dressed in a grey Atlanta Braves t-shirt with blue writing and dark blue long sleeves, a pair of khaki cargo pants, and her hair pulled back into a casual ponytail that she had threaded through her standard navy blue-red brimmed Atlanta Braves hat, smiled as she took in their surroundings.

"Pretty good, huh?" she said, her face alight with happiness as she took in their surroundings.

"I, uhhh, thought you said our tickets were first row behind home plate?" Booth asked with a furrowed brow as he scanned the room, noting the overstuffed leather couches and large high-definition TVs that he would have been quick to idolize and envy if he'd been in any other situation.

A look of excitement was on Brennan's face as she said, "The ones I had originally were, yes, but when you said how much I screwed up with calling the seats we had at Disney box seats when they really weren't, I made a couple of calls, and managed to get us a real box." She took a step towards him and came close as she tilted her head and asked, "Do you like it?"

_This is only a half-step closer to the real action than I'd be sitting at home,_ Booth grumbled silently. _But this is what Miss-Valet-Parking wants, and seeing as how she did buy me a ticket, and considering how awesome things have been, I should probably keep my pie-hole shut on this point._

"It's nice, Bones," Booth finally managed. "Besides, I didn't really wanna spend the next two hours staring at the catchers' asses anyway, right? So, yeah, this'll work just fine."

"Really?" she asked, her eyes full of happy excitement.

"Yeah," he nodded slowly. "It's great, Bones. I mean...it's...uh...kinda far away from the field," Booth finally managed. "And, inside."

"There's a door," Brennan pointed out positively. "And, seating on the patio that we'll share with a few other boxes that we can move to if you want to sit outside―as long as it doesn't get too cold. I know the weather forecast said it was supposed to be a high of sixty-eight degrees today, but I'd estimate that it's currently in the lower sixties since we arrived two to four hours before the hottest part of the day. With the breeze blowing like it is, I'm sure the wind chill could be approximately as low as fifty-eight to sixty degrees."

A grin broke out on Booth's face as he walked over to her and said, "You can always wear my Phillies jacket if you get cold, Bones."

A hard look suddenly crossed Brennan's face as she retorted sharply, "I think I would rather freeze."

"Aww, Bones, come on...don't be like that," he said as he placed his hands on her hips and gave her a charming grin. "I mean, I know you're probably still a bit sore after last season. I mean, who wouldn't be after having a season like that. Three straight seasons of not even making the playoffs once after a string of―what was it? Fourteen straight record playoff appearances? That's a lot to take."

Narrowing her eyes, Brennan responded, "Perhaps this is a good time to remind you of the purchase I made at the souvenir booth on the way up to the stadium, Booth. Remember? It was long and hard and would make an excellent weapon if one knew where to apply sufficient blunt force trauma to the human skeleton?"

Snickering, Booth countered, "Now, Bones, we all know the only reason you bought that Louisville Slugger was because it was etched with the words 'the Big One' on it." _That way, _he added silently,_ you can put that bad boy in your office next to one of your Oompa-Loompah tribal fertility wimbly-wombly figurines as a reminder of the kind of heat ol' Booth is packin'. Though, to be honest, I'd rather that you be reminded by something else a little more private―you know, maybe a bit of stickiness that only you can feel, or a little twinge of soreness ya feel first thing when ya get to the Jeffersonian in the morning, you know, that only you know about. _He grinned and blushed a bit at the thought.

Shaking her head, Brennan said, "I'm still not wearing that damn Phillies jacket no matter how cold it gets. I'd rather go to the souvenir shop and spend however much money it costs to buy a new Braves one."

"Only problem with that one, Bones, is this is the Phillies' home stadium," Booth said in a sing-song voice that he knew would annoy her. "That means, the Braves gear is gonna be kinda limited―as in, probably non-existent. So, why go to all the trouble of schlepping to the gift shop when you've already got a Phillies' jacket that's nice and ready for you to wear. I've warmed it all up for ya, and I know I've said this before, but you look really good in red―"

"Drop dead, Booth," she muttered as she shook her head and pulled away from him. Looking over her shoulder at him, she muttered, "I'm not wearing your damn Phillies jacket. End of discussion."

Shrugging slightly, he swallowed a chuckle as he said, "Your loss." He paused and then said, "But, really―this holding a grudge because of last season...it's just so beneath you, Bones. I mean, seriously―"

"Fourth in the NL East," Brennan muttered as she looked up at him and jabbed the index finger in his general direction. "We finished fourth behind the damn dirty Marlins, the double-damn dirty Mets, and the damn really dirty Phillies with a .444 win-loss ratio. We didn't even break .500, Booth. So, yeah, I'm still a bit pissed off, and my advice would be not to push it, huh?"

"Ya know," he began with a wicked grin, almost as if he hadn't even heard what she'd said. "I'm still curious. How in the hell did you manage to stay in the closet all last year? I mean, my boys won the World Series, and I never even knew you were into baseball...let alone a Bravos fan."

"It took an extreme amount of willpower," Brennan finally conceded. "And, I cursed both you and the Phillies a tremendous amount when I was alone and by myself." She stopped and then sighed before she added, "I knew it was going to be a bad season when Tom Glavine went on the DL for the first time in 22 seasons at the start of the spring, and then was never quite the same for the rest of last year. I knew things were going to be bad when he went back on the DL at the end of the year." She stopped and then tilted her head at him as she said, "Of course, even though he's still rehabing his shoulder this spring, I was hopeful I might see him yesterday. I was very sad when I couldn't even catch a glimpse of him in the dugout or bullpen."

"And, why's that?" Booth asked as he arched an eyebrow at her.

"Because," Brennan said simply, as if her reason were self-explanatory. "He's a very aesthetically pleasing male."

"Wait," Booth quickly replied as he waved his hand at her. "Wait, wait, wait. Are you really telling me that you've got...what? A _thing_ for Glavine?"

"I've always liked him," Brennan said as she gave Booth a smug smile. "As a matter of fact, although I'm not wearing it today since I didn't think it would be cold enough, I do own an authentic Atlanta Braves jersey with the #47 on it." She stopped and then added, "Do you want to guess why I chose that number?"

Making a face, Booth guffawed before he said, "Oh, whatever. I mean, if the Bravos want to rely on has-been broken-down pitchers for their rotation, I mean―well, let's just say maybe you should be hoping to finish fourth this year, Bones."

"Hudson's _not _a has-been," Brennan retorted instantly. "He's just coming back from a grueling injury and rehabilitation program. Now, if you want to talk about overblown and pretentious wannabes, then maybe we can address the Phillies' starting pitcher for today."

Taking her comment for the snark that it was, Booth shook his head as he quickly retorted, "You wouldn't be meaning the MVP for both the NLDS _and _World Series, there, Bones? Because I know you wouldn't call a guy like Cole Hamels an overblown and pretentious wannabe, right?"

"Hmmm," she said. "You mean the same Cole Hamels that went 14 and 10 with a 3.09 ERA?"

Narrowing his eyes, Booth wagged a finger at her as he said, "Somebody's been trolling MLB dot com again, hasn't she?"

"Maybe," Brennan said with a bit of a sly smile coming onto her face. "You really expected me to go to a Phillies game with you and not look up some evidentiary facts to counter any obnoxious or bombastic claims you might make?"

"You wound me, Bones," Booth said, taking his hand and putting it over his heart. "You really do. You cut me to the quick and all when you get suspicious like that..."

Pointing at the field, Brennan had to stop herself from snorting, "Just because one may be a tad bit overtly paranoid doesn't mean that one isn't out to get her. Besides, I knew it was a simple fact in that you wouldn't be able to help yourself. Your willpower's just not that good." Booth shot her a look, "Now, the Phillies appear to be getting ready to start batting practice. Are we going to watch or what?"

Walking over to one of the box's dark brown leather couches, Booth plopped down and then said, "I'm ready when you are, Bones―I'm ready when you are."

A short time later, one of the stadium's servers knocked on the door to their box. When Brennan called out for her to enter, she saw Booth's frown deepened to a scowl as he watched the server pass out what she called 'in-seat service menus.' After she'd explained how the system worked, Brennan smiled again and thanked her before the girl left.

Taking his laminated cardboard menu in his hand, Booth made another face as he muttered, "What in the hell is this?"

Perusing the menu, Brennan said, "While it seems their selection is somewhat limited, it does appear to be quite appetizing." She paused and then said, "Ooooh, look, Booth. Several of the choices seem to not only be tasty, but also quite healthy. Maybe you should try the Caesar Salad with the Grilled Chicken? It says it comes with crisp Romaine lettuce, shaved aged Parmesan, and Parmesan croutons tossed with the traditional caesar dressing."

Lifting her gaze, she stared expectantly at Booth, who in turn seemed to be staring at her as if she were speaking a foreign language.

"There's no way in hell I'm having a caesar salad," he told her bluntly.

"Oh, okay," Brennan said, looking back down at the menu. "Then, maybe a sandwich if you want something more substantial? The Smoked Turkey Sandwich sounds like an excellent choice as well. It comes with sliced turkey, lettuce, tomato, caramelized red onion, and avocado-garlic mayonnaise on foccacia bread."

"What?" he blinked, rolling his eyes at the suggestion. _I mean, for real, Bones? Seriously. Maybe they have Beef Wellington on the menu. Or some of Vietnamese spring rolls in the cellophane-lookin' rice paper with that tofu crap you like. 'Cause that'd go effin' great with Cracker Jacks and a beer. _He shook his head in disbelief._I'm mean, I loved you and all, but jeez...I gotta a lot to teach you about how to go see a baseball game the way it's meant to be done._

"I myself think I'm going to go with the Fresh Vegetable Sandwich. As a vegetarian option, it looks quite excellent. It comes with roasted mushrooms, zucchini, summer squash, sweet red and green peppers, red onions, tomato and a choice of a balsamic vinaigrette or avocado-garlic mayonnaise on pita bread." She skimmed the balance of the menu then brought her eyes back her selection. "Yum," Brennan murmured as she licked her lips expectantly.

"You have got to be kidding me, Bones," he snorted, shaking his head as he stood up and was no longer able to control his rant. Pointing at the field through the windows, he told her, "See, Bones, the thing is―you probably can't tell from here, since we're all walled up in Fort Knox back here, but we're actually at this thing called a 'baseball game.' You might have heard of it." He didn't pause for longer than a few seconds as Brennan rolled her eyes at him. "And at baseball games," he continued, "people eat food from the concessions stand that you get annoyed when you have to stand in line for and miss a really good play because it takes so long to get the food even though you left at an inning break. Baseball food, Bones: hot dogs, beer, peanuts, Cracker Jacks, and if you wanna get fancy, maybe nachos, Italian sausages, and bratwurst. But, none of this gourmet..._crap_." He uttered the last word as his face twisted in a sense of distaste.

"It's not _crap_," Brennan said, taking a mildly offended tone of voice. "It appears to be a healthy, well-balanced and tasty selection of appealing refreshments. All in all, it seems much more civilized than what are options were when we were at Disney." She stopped as she thought of how she'd had to content herself with a salted pretzel, french fries, and popcorn while Booth had scarfed down a hotdog, chicken fingers, and a chicken gyro. "I quite like it," she insisted.

"And look at this list of drinks. I mean, seriously? Where's the Bud Light or Mich Ultra?"

"They have something called Sierra Nevada," Brennan said. "It's listed as a pale ale. That sounds appealing."

"What?" Booth muttered. "This isn't even real baseball beer," he added, refusing to dignify her final statement with a response as he glanced at the list of beverages on the in-seat dining menu. "Real ballpark beer comes in a plastic cup from a concessions stand where it's poured from a tap right in front of you. Overpriced, slightly flat. That's part of the ballpark experience. Bud, Bud Light, Mich Ultra—that's ballpark beer. None of this fancy microbrew stuff―I mean, jeez...this is just offensive."

Brennan arched an eyebrow. "While I knew you tend towards somewhat...proletarian tastes in beer," she said with a scarcely-suppressed snicker, "I had no idea your dislike of finer hopped beverages went this far."

"You know, Bones," Booth said, turning towards the door and curving the brim of his new Phillies cap—an emergency purchase, as it were, since he found himself helplessly stranded at a ballgame without any of his hometown team's schwag. "You may know a lot about baseball, with all the stats and everything, but if you think sitting in a private box, eating veggie wraps and drinking Sierra Nevadas served by a waitress, is _baseball, _well—then you've gotta lot to learn about baseball. 'Cause that ain't baseball." Adjusting his ballcap once more, he walked towards the door. "I'm goin' downstairs to hit the concessions and get some _real _grub. Want anything?" he asked with a firm nod.

"Skittles," Brennan said instantly. "I'd like a bag of Skittles if you see them since it appears one area where the in-seat service menu is a bit limited seems to be in the sweets, or desserts, area."

"Taste the rainbow?" he asked with a straight face. She stared back at him blankly. "Never mind," he grumbled. He bit the inside of his lip and added more to himself than to her, even though he knew Brennan's keen ears never missed a murmur, "I'm surprised they don't have key lime pie or cheesecake on the menu." Flashing his eyebrows in response to her narrow-eyed glare, he mumbled, "Skittles—got it." Then he stuffed his hands into the pocket of his Phillies jacket and walked out of the box's door.

_Seriously? _he mumbled to himself silently as he left the box. _Normal people eat Cracker Jacks and peanuts at a ballgame. She's gonna munch on an eggplant wrap and Skittles. For real. I mean, I love her, but Jesus...what have I gotten myself into? _He rolled his eyes, shook his head, and made his way down the stairs to the lower level where a throng of Phillies fans clad in bright red milled around the dozens of concessions stands. _We're __definitely__ gonna have to work on some stuff. I mean Skittles? What kind of person but Bones would eat Skittles at a ballpark?_

Booth wandered around the stadium's lower concourse for a couple of minutes, getting a lay of the land and scoping out the available ballpark delicacies before making his way for the nearest concessions stand, pausing for a moment to gauge the quickest-moving of the four lines before committing to one. He stood behind a couple in their early twenties and acknowledged the shaggy-haired young man with a quick jerk of his chin, then raised his eyes to scan the concessionaire's menu. Inevitably, the line he had chosen turned out to be the slowest-moving of the four of them, but rather than letting that fact dampen his mood, Booth decided that the slow-moving line justified his choice to go with a 24-ounce 'jumbo' beer rather than the 12- or 16-ounce sizes. He considered getting one for Brennan, since the jumbo came in a limited-edition cup emblazoned with the Phillies' red, white, and blue Liberty Bell logo. But, he eventually decided it might be more fun to come back with a cool cup of his own rather than risk having to hear her gripe at him about how she didn't really want one of those proletarian beers.

"Yeah," he said by way of greeting to the silver-haired attendant, who wore a button on his apron that proudly proclaimed him to be a member of the Clearwater Masonic Lodge No. 127. "I'll take a jumbo Budweiser, a foot-long dog, a box of popcorn, and a bag of peanuts."

"Sure," the man said, turning around to retrieve Booth's peanuts and assemble his hot dog. Booth noticed the man's ballcap, which read 'Marines' over the arch in the back. He had originally assumed the man was wearing Phillies cap based on the bright red color, but on second glance, Booth saw the cap had the emblem of the 1st Marine Division on the front. He narrowed his eyes and surveyed the man's features, guessing he was in his late seventies, which made him the right age to have fought in Korea. "Chosin?" he asked him as he accepted his beer, taking a healthy sip to prevent it from spilling when he made his way up the stairs.

"Yeah," the man said as he handed Booth his foot-long hot dog, peanuts and popcorn. "Frozen Chosin," he said with a smile. "That'll be $12.75, buddy." Booth reached into his wallet and handed over a twenty. "You a Marine, too?" the man asked as he slid the twenty into the drawer and made Booth's change.

"Nope," Booth replied. "Army."

The man smiled and shrugged. "Somebody had to hold the ground we won, huh?" he replied with a laugh and a casual waggle of his bushy gray eyebrows. "Just kiddin' there, pal. Enjoy the game."

"Thanks," Booth said, sliding the peanuts into his jacket pocket, tucking the box of popcorn under his arm and making his way to the condiments table with his brim-full beer in one hand and his footlong in the other.

Once he loaded up his foot-long with onions, kraut, pickle relish, and yellow mustard, he made his way back towards the stairs that led to the box seats, and—more importantly—the lone concessions stand that sold Skittles. _Good thing I'm so observant, _he grinned to himself. _Otherwise, I'd be fucking walking around here for the next three innings looking for that damn candy and missing all the good stuff with the game. Shit, I mean...what gives? I didn't even think she had a sweet tooth. _Being careful to keep the box of popcorn wedged under his arm and his beer raised high enough that it wouldn't slosh all over the front of his new jacket, he brought his hot dog to his mouth and took a bite. _Now that's fuckin' ballpark food, _he told himself. _Veggie wraps and microbrews my ass. This is how it's done. _

After securing Brennan's Skittles—_taste the rainbow, baby_—he rounded the corner and headed towards the stairs leading up to their box. He stopped dead in his tracks about ten feet from the stairs when he saw a specialty beer cart beneath the stands with a big Pabst Blue Ribbon sign. He walked up and the concessionaire, a Puerto Rican guy in his mid-30's, greeted him with a sharp jerk of the chin. Setting his souvenir cup on the top of the beer cart, Booth looked down and saw the ice chest full of PBRs, Miller Genuine Draft, Yuengling, and Heinekens.

_Since when did MGD become a specialty beer? _He looked up at the cardboard sign that gave the prices. _$9.50 for an effin' Yuengling? _He frowned. _I've got a fridge full of that damn stuff. I can get a whole __case__ of Yuengling for the same price as two of those. _His eyes skated over the bottle-tops in the ice chest. _Heineken tastes like ass. Only Hodgins drinks that crap. _He raised his souvenir cup and took a big swallow of Bud. _MGD isn't premium anything. Isn't that the whole point of the ad campaign with the hilarious black guy repo'ing all the beer from the hoity-toits? Oh, wait—that's Miller High Life. Whatever. _Booth's eyes settled on the 20-ounce aluminum bottles of PBR. _There's something very wrong about drinking beer out of aluminum bottles, _he mused. _Only at ballparks and in airport terminals do normal people willingly drink beer out of aluminum bottles. It almost violates the laws of nature. _

He glanced down at his half-empty souvenir glass and decided to take the plunge. Without exchanging so much as a word with the concessionaire, he pointed to the PBR, handed over a ten dollar bill and shoved the change in his pocket. Balancing the opened bottle of PBR, his half-eaten dog, his half-drunk cup of Bud, and the box of popcorn in his arms, he carefully made his way up to the stairs and back into the box.

By the time that Booth returned to the box with his arms full of various foodstuffs, Brennan was languidly sipping a fruity beverage in a plastic cup that was rimmed with pink crystallized sugar.

"What's that?" he grumbled as he pointed at the cup...and then noticed, as Brennan set it down on the table, that it apparently had a twin that had already been consumed.

"A frozen strawberry margarita," Brennan replied with an appreciative smack of her artificially reddened lips. "And, it's quite tasty. I'm still waiting for my veggie wrap, but the server guaranteed me it'll be here soon, and she's going to bring me some extra napkins so I'll be prepared in case the mayo gets everywhere like the ketchup on your fries did yesterday at Champions. But, I think the food here will be quite superior to the fare I had yesterday," she said, pausing as she recalled with some dismay as to how her food selections had been limited to a double order of fries and a salted soft pretzel with cheese which she'd consumed in-between handfuls of popcorn she managed to occasionally sneak from Booth's vise-like grip on the box of popcorn she'd quickly come to realize was one of his favorite ballpark snacks. "They're making it fresh, but since it was taking so long, she brought me an extra complementary frozen beverage."

"Seriously, Bones?" Booth muttered as he sat down. "I leave you for a little bit, and you get a frou frou chicky beverage? I mean, I know that you're a chick, and I get that you've got a weak spot for tequila, but really? What happened to the microbrews? I mean, yeah, they're not real ballgame beers, but at least they're _beers_."

"I decided that I wanted something a bit sweeter," Brennan said, deciding to ignore—at least for now—the comment about her being labeled by Booth as a 'chick.' "Don't tell me...you've got some type of problem with that, right?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "I do."

"Why?"

"Because, Bones, it's like I said yesterday," he explained. "Baseball is about beer, peanuts, and hot dogs. Maybe nachos. As long as you don't make a mess like someone did yesterday—"

"That wasn't me!" Brennan instantly muttered. "And, you know it—"

"Yeah, whatever," Booth retorted, pulling the bag of peanuts out of one jacket pocket and Brennan's Skittles out of the other. "Good thing that you go the extra napkins just to be on the safe side, huh?" He paused and then pointed at her beverage. "Now, like I was saying. Baseball...well, it should be illegal to have frou frou shit like that at a fine establishment of baseball like this. Frozen drinks? No way. They're just...well, they're just so unbaseball-like it's not even funny, okay? It's almost communist even."

"I fail to see how my preference for a liquor-based beverage versus a beer-based choice indicates any political affiliation," Brennan said.

"Well, you're just gonna have to take my word for it," he said. "In the Booth Book of Baseball Traditions, frozen margaritas are a no-no, okay? Absolutely _verboten. _It has no bubbles, and it's not made of hops, so it's a no-go."

"You know what? I don't really understand why you have to make fun of my choice of concessions. Besides, I'll have you know that my beverage selection has a higher alcohol content than yours does," Brennan countered.

"Don't care," Booth said with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "It's still a frou frou drink, Bones."

Narrowing her eyes, Brennan smacked her lips once more as she finally decided on a retort that she liked so much the first time that she decided it merited a second usage. "Drop dead, Booth."

Booth swirled his Bud around the cup demonstratively, annoyed briefly that Brennan had failed to notice or comment on the epic souvenir cup he'd managed to snag downstairs. Raising his cup to his lips, he said, "Whatever, Bones." He took a big gulp of his beer—no sense letting his flat ballpark beer get any flatter, especially as the PBR was still cold and, he hoped, not flat—then stared at her for a moment. "I'm fairly certain, Bones, that even _you _think I'm more fun when I'm not dead. Back-to-back homers last night should've hammered that little lesson home, huh?" Brennan shot him a steely glare but, before she could say anything, Booth added smugly, "That's okay. You can thank me later."

By the time the game had transitioned the the third inning, Booth and Brennan had finished eating and a third previously sugar-rimmed cup had been added to Brennan's growing stack of empties. Stretching his feet out a bit as he munched on popcorn from his box that he was hoarding to Brennan's annoyance, he nodded at the door. "It's probably a bit warmer than it was earlier, Bones. Wanna go sit outside?"

"I'm still not wearing your Phillies' jacket," Brennan retorted, her eyes taking on a bit of a glassy look that hadn't escaped Booth's notice.

"I didn't ask you to," he retorted sharply. "You should be so lucky to get that offer twice."

"Ha!" Brennan said derisively, as she stood up and smiled when the in-service waitress knocked, brought a fourth frozen beverage that Brennan gratefully took, and then disappeared as quickly as she had come. Looking at Booth, she smiled as she suddenly seemed quite pleased with herself as she then said, "Okay, now we can go out if you want."

Opening the door, Booth gestured with his head. "After you, Bones." He watched her walk through the door sipping her margarita and shook his head. "I guess I should be glad it's not fruit-flavored beer," he muttered to himself. "'Cause that would be way worse."

As they walked out onto the patio that adjoined several of the other luxury boxes, Booth immediately knew that something was wrong. His eyes scanned the dozen or so people that were lounging in what looked liked fairly wide and comfortable seats—at least as comfortable as ballpark seats could be—and that was when he realized he was surrounded by the enemy as he realized there wasn't a single flash of Phillies' red to be seen, and they were surrounded by Braves fans.

"What the hell, Bones?" he growled as he swung his head around, looking for one, just one single Phillies cap, a lone Flyers T-shirt, or even a solo Eagles logo located on something...anything that might indicate he was somewhere other than swallowed up in a morass of Braves fans. "Shit," he hissed.

Brennan narrowed her eyes at him as she asked, "What?"

"You did this on purpose, didn't you?" he responded, closing his hand around the brim of his new cap and squeezing the bill into a deeper curve.

"Did what?" Brennan countered, her face the perfect picture of innocence.

"You put me in the middle of the friggin' Bravos Booster Club straight from Turner Field," Booth muttered. "Seriously, Bones. What the hell?"

"I can assure you that any such happenstance as the one you've pointed out is purely co-incident...tell." Shaking her head as she tried to say the word again and realized it wasn't coming out the correct way, she finally muttered, "It's pure chance."

"What?" Booth narrowed his eyes. _She's not a little fucked up, is she? _He snorted quietly and poured his PBR into his souvenir cup, depositing his empty aluminum bottle underneath his seat.

"Yes, well, you better get used to it," Brennan said. "Because I'm not suddenly going to let you convert me to some deranged Phillies fan in some asinine move just because we're...well, since I love you, we're doing whatever it is we're doing besides fucking...and if this mixed relationship of ours is going to work...then, well, you better stop giving me crap about the Braves."

"A mixed relationship**?" **he laughed, then his brain caught up with the rest of what she'd said. He felt a sudden pulse of warmth in his chest at hearing her say those three magic words—_I love you_—out loud, in public. _She loves me. Heh._ Then the rest of her short rant percolated through his brain."Bones, shhhh—enough with the, you know." He looked around dramatically. "I mean, there's people around, and kids, you know." He reached over and put his hand on her thigh. "Chill out over there, huh, Bones?"

As if on cue, the Gulf breeze shifted directions and picked up, enough so that Booth noticed Brennan's ponytail swaying a bit on her neck. He looked over and saw her rub her arms, but didn't think much of it until another gust of wind blew at them.

"Damn," she muttered, tugging her shirtsleeves as far down over her wrists as she could.

"You alright there, Bones?" Booth asked her with an amused look in his eyes.

"S'the damn wind," she mumbled. "Freakin' cold."

Booth arched an eyebrow, then smirked as he remembered her stack of three empty margarita glasses. He considered making a smart-ass, squinty remark about the effects of alcohol consumption on the body's ability to regulate temperature. But, seeing how uncomfortable she was, he relented.

"Where's your bag?" he asked.

"What?" she replied, her nose scrunching in puzzlement. "It's inside—why?"

Booth stood up and winked. "'Cause this Boy Scout is always prepared." She stared back blankly. "I tucked that blanket we bought at the souvenir stand downstairs in your bag. I'll be right back, okay? That way we can stay out here and still watch the game, but you'll still be comfortable."

He walked away and she watched him, her gaze lingering on the way his jeans hugged his ass until he disappeared into the box. A couple of minutes later, he emerged again with a bright red fleece blanket. Brennan's eyes lit up as he walked over but her smile faded as he unfurled the blanket to reveal the Phillies' distinctive 'P' insignia.

"Oh, hell," she cursed. "Do I have any other choice?" she asked, her forehead creased with annoyance.

Booth laughed. "Sure," he said. "You can be a cold, but faithful, Bravos fan; you can wear my Phillies jacket; or you can wrap yourself up in this nice little blanket. In any case, it's your call, Bones." He held the blanket out and waggled it with a grin, wondering if he was teasing an angry bull with the bright red fabric. Brennan shivered a little, then reached her hand out and snatched the blanket from his hands. She flipped it around so the white 'P' logo rested against her chest. The color—while not quite the same red as the Braves' muted red color—was not completely offensive and, she grudgingly admitted, the blanket did make her feel considerably warmer.

At the bottom of the fourth inning, the announcer's voice rang out over the tinny PA to declare that the venue's cameras would be searching for the afternoon's best kiss on the Kiss Cam.

"Oh yeah," Booth chuckled. "The Kiss Cam has to be the single best innovation of live sports in the last twenty-five years, Bones." Brennan swiveled her head around and stared at him skeptically. "No, I'm serious."

"Why would that be?" she asked, the lilt in her voice signaling that her question was posed with absolute seriousness. The stadium's camera began to pan through the crowd and zoom in on individual couples, some of whom stared back like a deer caught in headlights, some of whom blushed a deep scarlet before exchanging a modest cheek-kiss, and others who seized the opportunity to proudly fly their public display of affection flags in full, French-kissing glory.

Booth flashed his eyebrows with laughter in his eyes and nodded. "Heh," he snickered. "Well, how else can you mix public humiliation, cutesy romance, lust, add another dollop of public humiliation and throw it all up there in front of twenty thousand? Okay...even at a smaller venue like this, you're talking between seven to nine thousand people, right? It's just awesome."

His attention turned once more to the Jumbotron and he saw the couple who had been standing in front of him at the concession stand earlier—the shaggy-haired young guy and his bottle-blond girlfriend—smooching on the two-stories' tall digital screen.

Brennan shrugged. "I really don't think—"

She saw Booth's eyes widen, and she followed his gaze only to find _their _faces captured on the Jumbotron from a camera that they ducked their heads around to look for, but couldn't see no matter how much they struggled to find it. Something flickered behind his eyes and he turned his head, reaching for her with both hands, cupping her jaw between his palms as he placed a chaste, tender kiss on her lips, glancing at the Jumbotron out of the corner of his eye as the camera lingered on them for a few moments then blinked away. He felt her mouth quiver beneath his as his tongue skated lightly across the space between her thin lips. Booth murmured quietly and began to pull away when Brennan grabbed the collar of his jacket and reeled him in again. Pressing her lips hard against his, her mouth fell open and she felt his tongue slide over her lips and teeth before glancing against hers. She felt a twittering sensation at the base of her spine as their tongues twirled together in the warm, wet space between them.

_He really is a sensational kisser, _she told herself silently before the part of her mind that maintained the running play-by-play seemed to fall apart as his tongue stroked beneath hers and along the back of her teeth. She found herself unable to form words, even silently, much less a coherent thought as his enthusiasm mounted and his mouth grasped at her hungrily. "Mmmmnngth," was the only thing she could manage to say as they finally broke apart, each of them panting for breath with sheepish grins on their faces as their darkened eyes met.

A few moments later, the crowd noise surged to signal the end of the Kiss Cam. A cheer rose up as the 'winners' were deemed to be an older couple in their late 60s, who Brennan judged to be a pair of snowbirds judging by their matching sun-faded Phillies caps and Sun City T-shirts. After the crowd noise died down and the announcer noted that the winning pair could pick up their prize—vouchers for a free dinner at the Joe's Crab Shack in Clearwater—at the customer service kiosk behind section 201, the game resumed with a Braves at-bat as the bottom of the fourth inning began.

In between the bottom of the fourth and the top of the fifth innings, Brennan's brain was still a bit fuzzy. The seemingly innocent kiss that Booth had planted on her when the stadium's Kiss Cam had landed them on the Jumbotron had suddenly made her realize that now that she had been proverbially fed and watered, there was another itch that she now wanted to scratch. But, as she looked over at Booth—and a part of her wondered how long it would take them to get back to Orlando in the afternoon traffic...and if she could wait that long before having at him again—another part suddenly clobbered the sexual appetite part of her id over its proverbial head.

Although Hudson—despite Booth's annoying prognostications—had done quite well in his two innings of work, the reliever who had come in after him had left much to be desired. The Phillies had scored five runs off of the left-handed O'Flaherty before Bobby Cox had finally pulled him in favor of a minor league bullpen prospect from the Triple-A Richmond Braves, that would henceforth be known as the Marietta Braves beginning with the 2009 season—yet another change in the Braves' organization that irked Brennan since one of the things she'd always loved about her team was the franchise's remarkable consistency in so many areas from coaching to television and radio broadcast personalities. However, as she sat staring at Booth, who was smugly nodding at her and looking quite pleased with himself given the Phillies' lead, that snarkier part of her brain silenced any dissenting voices.

_He's so stuck-up,_ the voice echoed in Brennan's head. _Sitting there like he thinks this game is in the bag for the Phillies. Jackass._

Almost as if he could hear her voice, Booth looked over at her and nodded, "Gotta love that Bravos' pitching there, huh, Bones? That O'Flaherty...I absolutely _love _that guy. I hope we see _lots _more of him during the regular season. Good stuff!"

Her brow furrowing again as she considered his taunt, Brennan's eyes narrowed in displeasure as she lifted her fourth margarita to her lips and latched onto the straw. As she sipped the cold and smooth beverage through the straw, a suddenly wicked thought came into her mind. Lifting the cup closer to her mouth, she released the straw and knocked it out of the way with her tongue. Then, very, very deliberately, she began to use just the tip of her tongue to trace the edge of the cup's rim in a clockwise direction, collecting sugar crystals as she went along. When she'd finished one lap, she began a second in a counterclockwise direction. As she started doing it a third time, she moaned so quietly that she doubted even Booth could hear her as she lifted her gaze to seek out his to see if he'd been watching her as she suspected.

When she lifted her glazed over blue eyes to meet his, she confirmed that he'd not only been watching her...but had been watching her _intently_.

_She's not...wait, what's she—? _Booth raised an eyebrow and grinned at watching her tongue, which he by now was quite certain was the most talented tongue he'd ever come into contact with—_pun intended,_ he smirked. _Shit, _he grumbled silently. _What's it, like two and half hours back to Orlando? Fuck. She's doing this on purpose. She's two sheets to the wind at this point after three and a half of those frou-frou drinks, and she's just well-lubricated enough to tease the fuck out of me. _Booth felt himself getting aroused, but tried to dismiss the thought with a quick shake of his head. He shifted his hips in the seat and looked away from her breathtakingly obvious—and extremely hot—tonguing of her clear plastic cup. He looked up at the scoreboard and noted the number of hits versus runs, trying to do a little mental math to calculate the teams' batting efficiency, which was a sight better at keeping him from getting full-on hard than continuing to watch her work the sugary rim of her cup. _Sweet, sugary rim, _he heard himself say silently_. Mmmm. Sugar. Tongue. Bones. Rimming. Bones' tongue rimming_― He squirmed a bit in his seat. _Not helping, Booth. You've been fucking her senseless for the last two days. You can keep it together and in your damn pants for another three or four hours_―_then__ you can fuck her silly for the rest of the night. _

Brennan, for her part, broke eye contact only for a few seconds. Her eyes quickly darted around the patio deck as she saw that the cold had driven most of the previous spectators back to the comfort of their luxury indoor box seats. The sole exception were two businessmen who appeared to have come straight from work given their attire but for the Braves baseball caps that sat dashingly on their heads. Sitting on the far side and diagonally from where Booth and Brennan had situated themselves, they seemed quite content to divide their attention between the games and the BlackBerry phone that each man held in his hand. Also knowing that no ushers would be present on the private patio, Brennan was satisfied as she realized her plan to shut Booth up had worked beautifully. However, deciding a bit of payback wasn't such a bad idea―and to perhaps silence the increasingly loud voice in her head that seemed to represent her horny id re-emerged, Brennan decided to see if she might take things just a tad bit further than her impromptu licking session of her margarita cup's rim had already pushed them.

"What are you doin', Booth?" she murmured, seemingly innocent in her approach as she leaned in close to him and re-adjusting the fleece blanket so it draped over his lap completely. "You cold?" She rolled her head to the side with a lazy smile and propped her chin on his shoulder.

Booth sat up a little straighter in his seat, looking up to see if the beer guy was nowhere to be found. "No," he said quickly. "I'm just fine, thanks."

"You seem a bit tightly wound," she whispered, each syllable puffing warmly on his neck. He swallowed, but said nothing, giving up on the beer man as he turned his head and saw her pale eyes had darkened considerably in the past few minutes, more so than he could possibly attribute to the minimal progress she'd made on her fourth margarita. "And, since I'm getting cold...especially my hands, I think we might be able to help each other out."

"Oh?" his voice cracked.

"Yes," she nodded confidently. "I really think you need to relax a bit, Booth. Your team's winning—you should be enjoying this more, and not be so tense...and I need to warm up my hands."

He looked at her, his brow crinkled with a swirl of curiosity and mild trepidation. "What are you—?" Then he felt her hand slither up the inside of his thigh and up to the front of the waistband of his jeans. "Oh," he gasped as she swiftly unfastened his belt buckle, unbuttoned his jeans and quickly unzipped his fly, the sound of it concealed beneath the growing murmur of the crowd as the reliever readied for his next pitch, unwilling to let the batter set him any farther behind in the count than he already was. "Fuck," he whispered as he fingers deftly slipped into the flap of his boxers and pulled him out. "Oh, damn." He had only been half-hard before she unzipped him, but feeling her cool fingers on him closed the distance between him and a full erection, and a few moments later he found himself biting the inside of his lip to keep from moaning at her touch.

"God," she whispered against his neck. "That...you feel so goddamn good, Booth." Her fingers curled around him and she began to slowly, rhythmically fist him, trying to take care not to move too much lest anyone looking at the top of the blanket might suspect that something untoward was going on under there. "So damn good," she said again, pressing her lips against the curve at the base of his neck before pulling away, leaning against his bicep as she tugged on him. "How can you feel this good?" she asked in wonderment, the reverent awe in her voice making it seem as if she'd never touched him before now.

"Jesus, Bones," he sighed, raising his chin as his eyes rolled back into his head at the maddeningly erotic sensation. He'd been jerked off in public before—hell, he'd even made it with a girl under the bleachers at a baseball game before, when he was in high school—but he'd never been worked over in a crowded section of seats at a major league―albeit spring training―game. "Damn," he whispered as he tried to surrender himself to the sensation of feeling her slender fingers, tightly gripping him, dragging the skin up and down his hard shaft. "Goddamn..."

"Yes," she murmured. "You definitely need to relax." She continued to pump him, steadily increasing the pace of her strokes as she felt the muscles of his arm and shoulder tighten against her cheek. His breathing became erratic and his mouth fell open a little as it appeared whatever he had been doing to keep from moaning had fallen by the wayside as she continued her ministrations.

"Fuck, Bones," he hissed. "Are you trying to kill me?" he whispered, turning his head as his words fell into her hair, each syllable a hard puff of air that warmed her scalp.

"No," Brennan grinned, tightening her grip as she began to jerk him even harder, each stroke falling faster on the heels of the one before. "Like you said before, I like you far too much alive than to let you die." A soft sound, one that started off like a moan but ended in a murmur, passed from her lips as she felt his hips arch against her hand. "That's it," she said encouragingly, slowing her pace a little but continuing to apply the same pressure around his deliciously hard flesh. She closed her eyes, quite certain at that moment that she had underestimated her own ability to endure the torture that she had intended to subject him to, and she shifted her hips in her seat as she felt a hot, wet pulse between her legs. She felt his hips jerk against her again, and as another tingle of desire flashed through her, she managed a moment of clarity as she reached one hand between her legs to grab the short stack of napkins that she'd tucked under her thigh.

"Awwww, Jesus," he groaned, arching into her hand as he sucked in a hard breath between his teeth. She felt his groin tighten beneath her wrist and she knew he was very, very close. "Oh...ohh...I'm—oh my God...oh, holy fuck, Bones...I'm..." He bit down on the inside of his lip as she continued pumping him with one hand, bringing the handful of napkins over his lap between his legs, the back of her hand brushing against the swell of his scrotum before she felt him tighten one last time. "_Nnnnngggth_," he murmured as he thrust his hips towards her hand and exploded, the first pulse of his come dribbling over the top of her fist before she caught the rest of his creamy, warm pulses with the napkins.

"Fuck, Booth," she whispered encouragingly, wiping most of the first ropy spurt off the top of her hand before an idea occurred to her. Giving him one last gentle tug, she pulled her hand away and dabbed the napkin at his base, trying to clean up a bit that had spilled onto his crisp curls. "Mmmm," she murmured. "Now, wasn't that better than cracking on my team for at least one-half inning?" She looked into his eyes with a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she brought her hand out from under the blanket and brought it to her mouth, wiping it across her lips as her tongue darted out and gathered up the tiny bit of silvery come that she had saved for herself. "Mmmm," she chuckled. "Yes, I think that _definitely _was better." She paused and then said with a quirky smile, "I think I'm ready for another margarita now―how about you?"

Getting up, she smoothly shifted out of her seat and headed into the box to signal to their server that she was ready for another beverage, leaving Booth watching her dumbstruck as her hips swayed lightly when she disappeared through the box's door.

"Holy hell," he whispered as his eyes lingered on the closing door. _Holy fucking shit, that was hot. _Booth leaned his head back and sighed, then reached under the blanket, tucked himself back in and zipped up his fly. _Oh, my God. _He shook his head and exhaled slowly through pursed lips as he felt his racing heartbeat slowly return to normal. _That is the fucking hottest thing that has ever fucking happened to me, _he thought. _Well, with the possible exception of fucking in the middle of that clearing in the Ocala National Forest. _His hips twisted against the seat as he remembered the strange circumstances of their first true sexual encounter. _I mean, Jesus_―_I don't think I'll ever watch a baseball game without thinking about getting yanked off like that. I mean, fuck._

Booth sat back in his seat and watched the Phillies' closer warm up in the bullpen with one of the minor-league call-up catchers. _I can't let her think I'm just gonna let her get away with that, _he thought with a smirk. He listened to the satisfying _smack_ of the ball drilling into the catcher's mitt and nodded to himself. _And, it would be downright ungentlemanly of me to let her ride this one out without giving her a helping hand...and teaching her a lesson. I mean, I know I wasn't quite paying as close attention as I might have under other circumstances, but I'm pretty damn sure I heard her making some choice little noises there when she was working me over. _He smiled as he recalled the delicious, almost kittenish sound that she made as she was stroking him, right before he'd let go in her hand. _She's gotta be halfway there, _he mused. _It wouldn't take much. If I let her wait until we got all the way back to Orlando_―_well, that just wouldn't be right...no, sir. _He paused before he smirked and then thought, _And, yeah, I definitely can't let that little challenge of hers go unanswered, or I'll never live it down, so...hmmm. Besides, it'll take a bit of the sting away from having her team shellacked by mine, so..._

_Yep. Definitely._

About ten minutes later, Brennan walked back out of the luxury box, carrying another frozen margarita―a point that wasn't lost on Booth given the fact that she'd been complaining early about how cold she was...particularly her hands. She gave him a happy smile as she resumed her seat, but he noted that she was careful to make certain that the Phillies fleece blanket remained tucked solely around Booth's lap.

After watching in silence for a few minutes, Booth nodded over at her and said, "I, uhh―I think I'm gonna go get another beer. Want anything?"

"Nope," Brennan smiled with a slight shake of her head as blinked at him distractedly while she concentrated her attention on the game. "I'm good."

"Okay," Booth nodded, arching his eyebrow as he tried to interpret the rather unreadable expression on her face. "Be right back."

"Okay," she nodded, letting her eyes dart back to the game.

Little did she know that Booth was already plotting _his _revenge. In what was to be record time, he quickly returned to the box and entered the patio impressively juggling two extra large draft beers. Brennan arched an eyebrow at him as he sat down and extended one to her.

"Here."

"What?" Brennan asked, as she reached out and took it.

"That one's for you," he nodded. "It's not like you don't need a refill anyway," Booth pointed to what was now Brennan's fifth empty margarita cup. "And, I wouldn't be doing a good job as your partner if I didn't make certain that you came to a ball game and had at least one normal beer like all other red-blooded Americans do when they come to a fine ballpark like Bright House Field."

Her nose scrunched up as she lifted the cup to it and said, "What is it?"

"Bud Light," came the immediate response.

"I don't know," Brennan replied unconvinced. "I've been drinking liquor all day, Booth. I don't really think I should mix―"

He laughed. "Remember, Bones, 'liquor before beer, and you're in the clear'...so, you're good. Drink up," he smiled. Lifting his cup towards hers, he saluted as he added playfully, "Cheers."

Reluctantly, Brennan lifted the cup to her lips, shrugged, and took a small sip. She was quite surprised at how refreshing it felt when she felt the cool frothiness travel down the back of her throat. As the bottom of the sixth inning transitioned into the seventh and the seventh inning stretch quickly melted them into the bottom of the inning, Brennan had downed half the beer and was feeling quite mellow by the time she realized that Booth had put one arm around her shoulder, reached over the armrest that separated their seats and wrapped his other arm around her. Giving her a tight squeeze, he let one hand fall away as she smiled at his affectionate gesture. Letting her head fall against his shoulder, she would later realize how lulled into a false sense of security she'd been when he stealthily shifted so the fleece blanket once more covered their laps and his hand had started to trace small circles on the thigh of her khaki-cargo pants.

"Booth?" she asked quietly.

"Hmmm?" came the dulcet response.

"What are you doing?" she asked, almost afraid to know the answer to her question.

"Nothing, Bones," came his mellow response.

"Oh?" she breathed. "Because...it doesn't feel like nothing."

"Okay," he amended playfully. "What does it feel like then?"

She furrowed her brow, but didn't turn her head to look at him. "It feels like you're trying to feel me up, Booth," she replied, her breath hitching in her voice just once a bit.

He chuckled, letting the palm of his hand slide a bit higher such that his thumb came to naturally rest in the crook where her thigh and hip met. "Mmmm," he murmured. "You think so? Now, why would I do that?" He leaned in and brushed his lips against her temple, kissing her softly before turning his head a little and nuzzling the point of his nose against her ear. "You're so suspicious, Bones. So paranoid." He punctuated his declaration by lightly squeezing the soft flesh at the top of her thigh.

"Hardly," she coughed. "It's like I said earlier—'It's not paranoia if they're really out to get you'—right?" Booth flashed his eyebrows and smiled.

He wiggled the tip of his nose against her earlobe before raising his head a little and gently tonguing the shell of her ear, which made her shiver and twist her hips against her seat. "So you think I'm out to get you, Bones?" he asked. He dragged the point of his tongue once more along the half-moon shaped shell of her ear. "Mmmmm." Booth laughed quietly, a soft puff of air escaping his nostrils and tickling the inside of her ear canal. "Maybe I'm not out to get you...but, maybe I just am out to get you off."

Brennan bit her lip at the combined effect of hearing his words and feeling his hot breath on her ear. "Is that so?"

"Yeah," he whispered in her ear, taking her earlobe between his teeth and biting ever so softly as he thumbed open the button at the top of her cargo pants. "You know, Bones—if I didn't know any better, I'd think you wanted me to get you off―that you're practically begging me to do it." He leaned his head into her shoulder, smiling against the soft fabric of her shirt as his fingers slowly unzipped her pants beneath the warm fleece blanket. "But I know I gotta be mistaken, right? I mean...maybe it's just the beers talking, you know?" He laughed again as he slid his thumb under the waistband of her panties, sucking in a breath as he felt the top of her crisp curls brush against the side of his thumb. "Yeah, that must be it. 'Cause you're definitely giving me no reason to think you actually want me to—well, you know..."

She rolled her shoulder and stiffened her posture. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Booth," she replied, unable to maintain the ruse any longer as the rest of his fingers slipped underneath the lacy, scalloped edges of her panties.

"Really, now?" he snickered. "Oh, I'm quite sure you know _exactly _what I'm talking about." He narrowed his eyes and raised his head from her shoulder, looking straight ahead at the scoreboard as his middle finger smoothed over her soft cleft. "See, Bones? You may be pretty bad at giving signals like we talked about in Ocala, or at least you have been before the last few days, but I think you're pretty damn good at reading them―especially when they're as obvious as these."

"Oh?" Brennan responded in a breathy voice as she straightened her back in the plastic seat. "Is that so?" she asked again.

"Yup," Booth muttered as he let his hand retreat a bit higher, and he let his index and middle fingers lazily twirl one of her curls. "But, if you need a refresher, I can probably help you with what some of the coach's signs are...if you really want."

"I don't really care about any damn coaching right now Booth," she sighed as she felt his fingers release her curls and slide further down, his middle finger stroking more firmly along the cleft between her folds. "Oh, fuck," she muttered as she squeezed her eyes shut in spite of herself.

"Heh," he grunted as he pressed more firmly, parting her folds with his finger and sliding along the wet path, glancing over her hard clit and down to her creamy opening. He bit his lip as he felt himself harden at the sensation of touching her. "Hmmm," he murmured in her ear. "Well, look at that. It seems as if someone's wet. Now, how in the hell did that happen, huh, Bones?"

"You know," she hissed under her breath. "You know damn well how that happened, Booth."

"Hmmmm," he hummed against her earlobe. "I have a couple of theories," he snorted, unable to maintain a believable pretense of squintiness for more than a half second as his finger slid into her. "Would you like to hear them?"

"No," she grunted as she tightened briefly around his finger. Brennan rolled her hips forward slowly to change the angle of penetration slightly.

"That's too bad," he whispered, closing his lips loosely around the shell of her ear as he curled his finger inside of her and began to stroke the front of her slippery walls. "Mmmm, you feel good," he mumbled, his lips vibrating against her tender skin as his breath made a couple of strands of hair tickle the back of her ear. "Really fucking good."

Booth continued to gently stroke inside of her as he let his thumb roll over her most sensitive flesh, gathering up a bit of her moisture before he began to rub firm, tight circles over her clit.

"Oh, God," she gasped, biting down hard on the inside of her lip to keep from crying out at the maddening sensation of being diddled with one of his digits and firmly penetrated with the other.

_Fuck, he's good, _she told herself as she squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to hold herself together. _Those hands...if I knew now what those hands...what those fingers could do, I think I would've tackled him and stripped him before seducing him a long time ago_―

"Oh..." Brennan shook her head and bit down again on the inside of her lip, holding it firm between her teeth, biting down hard each time Booth circled her clit. She felt the skin break and the tingly, coppery taste of blood on her tongue. _Oh God. _She swallowed hard as he thrust his finger deep into her, withdrawing again. _Wait_―_no, wait... _"No," she breathed. "Oh, God―no...oh, oh, ohhhhh!"

"Easy, baby," he whispered as he rimmed her with his middle finger before pulling out. "_Hey..._"

Her eyes flashed open, and she turned her head, glaring at him as she both warned and begged, "Don't tease me. You know...you know I don't like it...when you tease me."

With only a cocky smirk as a reply, he closed his thumb and forefinger around her clit, gently pinching it once. Brennan sucked in a hard, sharp breath as he inserted two fingers into her, his way made easy by how incredibly wet she had become. He closed his eyes and silently reminded himself that he would have his chance to have a go at her again in fairly short order―the way he really wanted to have another go at her, the moment her hotel room door closed behind them on their return to Orlando.

In the meantime, he was determined to tide her over and yet leave her a bit breathless and wanting more. _Because turnabout's fair fucking play, huh? _he thought as he began to stroke into her again with his thick fingers.

Biting the inside of her lip proved insufficient to keep Brennan's steadily increasing arousal silent. A low moan sounded from her throat as Booth's pace quickened. Her breaths began to rise and fall erratically, and she sucked at the tiny cut on the inside of her lip, tasting her blood as her orgasm coiled tighter and tighter in the space behind her navel.

"Come on, Bones," he whispered in her ear, the wet point of his tongue invading her ear the way his fingers had invaded her below. "Just let go," he breathed into her ear, the very voice of dark temptation. "You know you want to, so why bother fighting it? Just let go."

Booth pulled his fingers out of her, covered up to his knuckle with the sweet cream of her arousal. He brought his slippery fingers to her clit and began rubbing tight, wet circles with the pads of his fingertips. She lasted only a few more seconds as winding gyre of her arousal peaked, and she shattered, a low moan passing from her lips before she cried out. She lifted her head and met Booth's eyes just as the crowd noise surged as the Braves's no-name non-roster invitee cleanup hitter―Brennan hadn't even realized the Braves were still batting at that point―slugged one deep into right, the ball soaring over the right field wall as she felt herself go limp against Booth's caress.

"Fuck," she breathed, hopefully that she said it as quietly as she'd hoped. "Ohhhhh, fuck―"

While the ballpark was still loud with the clapping of the Braves fans, the guffaws of the irked Phillies fans, and sound clips used to keep the home team's crowd's energy high, Brennan was fairly certain no one had heard her moan 'Jesus fucking Christ' when she came. She gasped for breath a bit more, then looked over to where Booth sat seemingly quite pleased with himself.

"You okay there, Bones?" he said with a jovial smile.

"Yes and no," she finally managed to gulp.

Leaning a bit closer, he whispered in a conspiratorial tone, "Well, I hope the reason you're okay might have something to do with my magic fingers there, huh?"

"Don't get too cocky, Booth," Brennan muttered through narrowed eyes. "Do I need to remind you that it's still a good three-hour drive back to Orlando with traffic, and I'll have considerable ease of motion in the car if you're driving back?"

The nervously optimistic response he gave her said more than anything he might be able to convey with words. Smiling to himself, he didn't say another word for the rest of the game. And, by the time the game ended in the top of the ninth with the Phillies beating the Braves 18-3, Brennan was resigned enough to her team's defeat that she merely looked to Booth and shrugged as she said, "Shut up."

Again, she received only a nonverbal response as he grinned and chuckled at her words.

* * *

><p>Later that night, after Brennan had showered, she emerged from the hotel suite's bathroom in several clouds of hot, moist steam, she was still brushing her wet hair when she walked towards the king-size bed. Booth had already changed and was sitting up with one leg curled underneath him while the other hung off the side of the bed so that he could tap his foot. He'd flipped to one of the network TV channels that was broadcasting a very familiar movie.<p>

As Brennan heard the tell-tale Raider's march, she stopped on her side of the bed and said, "You know, any archaeologist or anthropologist worth their salt knows that that entire character and the movie franchise he was the focal point of was nothing but a glorified defense of site looting in the early twentieth century." She arched her eyebrow and added, "Besides—how can you take a film seriously when the protagonist spends half the time running from hordes of Nazis and rappelling off a steep cliff into a slit canyon, but never once loses his Fedora? It's ludicrous, Booth."

Booth's eyes broke away from where he was watching Indiana Jones arguing with his father about Nazis and the Holy Grail. As he quickly glanced at her, he said, "Now, look here, Bones. I know you're in a cranky mood here because your team lost and all―"

"And, the coffee," Brennan grumbled. "Don't forget that I didn't get my latte on the way back like I wanted."

"Hey, now," Booth quickly countered here. "We passed by about fifty DnDs on the way back to the interstate while we were still in the city limits alone."

"While I can share your affinity for Dunkin' Donuts at 6am on the way to a crime scene when there's no other form of decent caffeine to be had, I still prefer my nonfat latte from Starbucks, Booth," Brennan said. She then made a face as she added, "I mean, what kind of city only has _one _Starbucks in the entire municipality of Clearwater?"

"Fine," Booth told her. "But, ya know, Bones. You probably wouldn't have needed the coffee if you hadn't downed forty-two margaritas like they were going out of style at the ballpark."

"First, I didn't have forty-two margaritas. That's an exaggeration. And, second, I was fine until you made me drink that beer," Brennan complained.

At her final comment, Booth shot her a look of annoyance. "Oh, fine. You want to blame me, go ahead all you want. But, I draw the line with Indy. I'm not gonna have you cracking on one of the most awesome heroes in one of the most kickass movie series of all times, okay? So just cut it out, okay, because I don't really want to hear―"

Booth's words trailed off as his throat suddenly became dry, and he took in what the nature of Brennan's selected nightgown.

"What in the hell are you wearing?" he finally managed to choke out.

Arching an eyebrow, Brennan set her hairbrush on the nightstand before she daintily pulled back the turned down bedsheets and slid in between them. "I told you. This is my Tom Glavine jersey."

"Your Glavine jersey?" Booth said in clear disbelief.

"Yes," Brennan said. "I told you I had one. He's my favorite Braves player, remember?"

"Oh, yeah," Booth muttered, his forehead suddenly creasing. "I remember―he's the baseball stud you've got the hots for, huh?"

"Anyway," Brennan said, ignoring his comment. "Like I was saying, this is my Braves jersey...as in what I'm wearing to bed because it's warm, and clean, and covers my ass so I know you won't be staring at my panties again and be tempted to rip them off just like you have two of my other pairs...which, I might add, while is incredibly sexy in one way, I must say is getting a bit impractical, because I'm running out of underwear. And, since we aren't going home for another two days, while I can drive into one of the malls near International Drive to buy some more to sustain me until we return to D.C., I'd rather not waste any more time then we have to in stores since you know I hate shopping."

"I can think of better ways to spend our days than at the outlet malls, Bones," he said, his low voice closing on a growl. "I'm really thinking we can do a lot better than shopping or the so-called Attractions." He rolled over onto his side and looked at her hungrily. His eyes skated over her chest, noting how the points of her nipples could barely be seen beneath the mesh fabric of the navy blue jersey.

_God, she's so fucking hot, _he told himself silently. _So fucking hot. And she always fucking surprises me. No matter what she does, no matter how long we work together, she never ceases to surprise me. Bones...a baseball fan? I mean, who'da fuckin' guessed that? All the times she dissed sports while Zach & Hodgins were leaning over the table on the platform talking about a basketball game. The way she got all squinty and anthropological about my hockey. All that bullshit gladiatorial crap she spouted off about football. I guess I should've guessed that the one sport she didn't piss on was the one she loved. Serves me right for making assumptions about her, huh? _He narrowed his eyes and looked at her, noting the way the square-cut fabric of the jersey fell over her womanly shape, clinging perfectly to the round swell of her breasts and the gentle curve of her hips. _It's like that lab coat, _he thought. _The less hot the garment, the more epically she seems to rock it. I must be fucking crazy. She drives me fucking crazy. _He smirked. _Well...at long last, it's time to return the fucking favor, huh, baby? _

"Yeah," he said. "There are attractions here in town I'd like to see, but none of 'em involve buying overpriced tickets, expensive parking or standing in lines." He grinned smugly. "Nah—where I wanna be, there aren't any lines. Curves, maybe, but no damn lines."

Brennan yelped as Booth made a swipe with his long arm and pulled her towards him. "Booth!"

"That's it," he muttered as he made a grab for the jersey's hem. "Off it comes, Bones. Right now, because I gotta tell you, this bed isn't big enough for both you, me, and Tommy, and since I don't do three-ways―"

"Booth!"

He again gave her a lecherous smile as he tightened his hold on her to keep her from squirming away. Chuckling, he murmured, "Come 'ere, Bones. I think we need to go over our hand signals again, huh?"

And, for the rest of the trip in Florida, the pair did just that.

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><p><em><strong>The End<strong>_

(for scenario #6)

_**To Be Continued**_

(for the series)

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><p><strong>AN: **_So you thought we couldn't do it. But we did. Dharmasera Inc. are actually capable of writing a one-shot. It wasn't short. It might just be the longest self-described one-shot in the Bones FFnet archive, but it's still a one-shot._

_Wasn't that fun? The foregoing concept sure kept us snickering when we went to a Spring Training game with the monkeyhubby after writing this. (He probably thought we'd had too many beers.)_

_Oh, and in case you wondered what's up next in the "Very Bad Idea" queue, we've got a piece called "Pyrite" that's sort of our twisted, slightly AU and indubitably smutty take on 'Doctor in the Photo.' That one will be angsty and a bit deep (in the tradition of "Cooking Off Ammo," but focusing on our beloved heroine instead of our beloved hero), but will include a tasty reward and, no surprise, a B&B ending. So definitely keep an eye out for that one._

_Oh, and of course, for those who are into historical AU pieces, Dharmasera's latest epic is "The Inquisitor," the first chapter of which posted a few days ago under the monkey's profile. We lift B&B from their usual environs and drop them into England circa 1558. Booth is an up-and-coming young Catholic priest who has been appointed as an inquisitor during the reign of Queen Mary I and whose first case is that of a talented young midwife named Temperance Brennan. It's a bit of a different thing than we've done before, but we think it's good. Think "Bones" meets "The Tudors" meets "The Thorn Birds." Political intrigue and forbidden love. (Yes, because forbidden love is the hottest kind.) So, check it out._

_In any case, we think we should be rewarded for this particular dose of one-shot goodness. We accept money orders, Starbucks gift cards and Pay Pal, but if that's asking too much, maybe you can just leave us a review and let us know what you think of this smutty little sojourn in the box seats in Clearwater._

_Come on, please? Just press that pretty little blue button down there. _

_Don't be coy. You know the one. _

_Thanks!_


	23. 23—Pyrite, Pt I

**A Very Bad Idea**

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><p><strong>By<strong>**:** dharmamonkey & Lesera128

**Rated****: **M

**Disclaimer****: **Ummm, nope, we still don't own anything. We have, however, apparently become squatters in the sandbox that we crashed... so, umm... yeah. There we go.

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><p><strong>AN****: **_And, now, a word from your sponsors, a/k/a the progenitors of Dharmasera, Inc. The genesis of this scenario came out of our desire to see how dark Brennan could realistically become if we pushed her as far as we thought she'd go. Naturally, that made us think of early season six Brennan. A bit more thinking made us realize that, much like we deconstructed and explored the depths of Booth's psyche in VBI's Scenario #2 ("Cooking Off Ammo"), we wanted to do the same for Brennan. Hence, this little ditty was born. Like most of the pieces in this anthology, there's lots of adult conversations, naughty words, and even naughtier deeds present in the following pages. Proceed at your own risk. We hope the darkness and aggression of this piece won't be too off-putting for some of our readers, but for those who can't handle/don't like some of the angrier/edgier pieces we've written, we understand completely and do recommend that this is one you should definitely skip. For the rest of you, we do hope that you'll trust us and try to keep an open mind. As with all of our writing, each thing is done for a reason. We at Dharmasera, Inc., like to think we've never failed you when it comes to B&B goodness which we always deliver at the end of the ride. So, all that we ask is that you just stick with us until we get there, concentrate on our story within the context of how we've presented things, and―like always, we promise it'll be worth the wait. And, with that being said, here we go...  
><em>

**Unf Alert**: _Surprise, surprise. This piece contains unfness. Yeah—duh. It's a "Very Bad Idea" piece, people! Of course it has unfness. So, if you don't want to read about unf situations, then we insist you stop reading immediately, if not sooner. If the foregoing does not describe you, then put on your flame-retardant pajamas and barbecue gloves, because this baby's gonna get real hot, real quick. We're not kidding._

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><p><strong>VII. Pyrite, Part I<strong>

**Pertinent Details on Scenario #7****: **Set sometime between the episode 5x22- "The Beginning in the End" and 6x8- "The Doctor in the Photo."

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><p><em>pyrite (n.) - The mineral pyrite, or iron pyrite, is an iron sulfide with the formula FeS2. This mineral's metallic luster and pale-to-normal, brass-yellow hue have earned it the nickname fool's gold because of its resemblance to gold. The color has also led to the nicknames brass, brazzle and Brazil, primarily used to refer to pyrite found in coal.<em>

* * *

><p>This wasn't how it was supposed to be.<p>

Brennan didn't bother to look back once she'd slammed the door of the familiar black Toyota Sequoia SUV. She didn't stop to say goodbye or to thank her partner for taking the time to drop her off at the Jeffersonian. She didn't know if he'd even cared enough to call after her as she worked to fulfill the only goal in her mind at that moment.

_Get away_, she thought, as the pain and embarrassment of his rejection stung her. _Get away. Get away. __Get away__!_

The rain was still drizzling as she pulled the flaps of her drenched rain slicker tightly around her. She bounded up the steps of the Jeffersonian, taking them as quickly as she could, as she tried to put as much physical distance between her and Booth as was physically possible to achieve in that moment.

_I can't believe...why did I do that? _a voice cried in her head as she let instinct guide her as she worked to achieve her goal of getting as far away from Booth as was possible. _I was __so__ stupid. What was I expecting? Of course he wouldn't...of course, it could've only turned out this way. Of course I was going to be rejected. It was the only way it could've gone. I know that. It's not like I didn't know that. But, I...I-I...God, I was __so__ stupid!_

As soon as Brennan reached the safety of the employee's entrance, she stopped and allowed herself the luxury of taking a few deep breaths.

The nightwatchman, Micah, stared at her in concern as he looked up at her from where he sat behind the security desk. "You okay, Dr. Brennan?" he asked, the worry he felt for her clearly present as he looked at her.

Biting her lip, Brennan's eyes wildly darted from the two other doors that stood in front of her―the passageway through which employees would be able to gain access to the lab and the door that led to the Jeffersonian employees' parking substructure.

For a minute, Brennan considered which fork in the road offered her the safest respite―the lab or the garage.

_I can't...the lab. I can't go there_, she eventually decided._ He's...that's where we...he's there. Everything we do...everything we are...everything that we've been...how we've gotten there...it's all there It's...the proof...the evidence is there in the lab. It's not safe anymore...I can't_―_I have to get away_, Brennan thought.

Very quickly, her eyes skittered over to the door that led the the Jeffersonian's underground parking garage.

"I-I...no," Brennan said with a shake of her head. "I'm not okay―I'm not."

Standing up, Micah moved out from around the security desk and came to stand in front of Brennan. "Is...is this about that case you were working on earlier...the one with the doctor?"

For a moment, Brennan stared at Micah in obvious shock, not processing the complete meaning of his words as she realized, after a minute or two had passed, that he was talking about the investigation into Lauren Eames' death. She opened her mouth to say something, but found there wasn't anything that came out, and so she could only nod her head dumbly.

"How'd it go?" Micah asked her, trying to establish a pattern of questioning that he hoped might serve as some type of bridge between to ease the skittishness that he was sensing in Brennan.

She looked at Micah again, and finally managed to catch onto his words. She tried to get a deep breath, and when it failed, she merely shook her head in response. "I-I...I listened to the universe," Brennan finally managed to croak. She felt a stab of pain as she slowly shook her head again.

Micah stared at her for a moment before he nodded sympathetically. "That's so much better―"

Suddenly, the nightwatchman's words were cut off as a cell phone seemed to buzz and a ring tone kept Micah from finishing his sentence.

_On the first page of our story  
><em>_The future seemed so bright  
><em>_Then this thing turned out so evil  
><em>_I don't know why I'm still surprised_

Quickly, Micah gave Brennan a sheepish smile as he raised his hand and gestured with one of his fingers. "Uhhh, I'm so sorry, but hold that thought, okay?"

He quickly scurried back to the security desk. Brennan watched in painful fascination as she considered the words of the ringtone.

_Even angels have their wicked schemes  
><em>_And you take that to new extremes  
><em>_But you'll always be my hero  
><em>_Even though you've lost your mind_

"What...is...that?" she finally managed to ask him.

Fumbling for the cell phone, Micah explained, "It's my daughter's cell phone. I dropped mine in my bowl of cereal this morning―long story, don't ask―and, I didn't have time to get a new battery since I think the milk shorted out the old one. We've kinda got this thing going on at home, and since I needed to be able to get her call tonight, she let me take hers with her." Shaking his head apologetically, he sighed, "Damn Rihanna ringtone...I don't know how to change it. I thought about leaving it on vibrate, but I was afraid I might miss her call if I fiddled with the settings, so I'm stuck with this crappy song playing every time someone calls."

_Just gonna stand there and watch me burn  
><em>_But that's alright because I like the way it hurts  
><em>_Just gonna stand there and hear me cry_

He raised one hand as he said, "Give me just one second, Dr. Brennan, and then we'll talk. I just need to take this call―"

_But that's alright because I love the way you lie  
><em>_I love the way you lie  
><em>_Ohhh, I love the way you lie_

Suddenly, the wave of panic that had sped her away from Booth a few minutes before renewed itself in the center of her chest with a virulent vengeance. Spinning on her heel, she turned towards the doorway the lead to the Jeffersonian parking substructure. Quickly, she muttered over her shoulder, "Thanks...but, I have to go. I-I need―that is, I've got to get out of here."

And, then, just like that, she was gone and in flight.

As she continued to let adrenaline and instinct fuel her decisions, the only thing that she could hear repeating in her head over and over again were his words.

_Ummm, I'm with someone, Bones. _

"I know that," Brennan snapped "After all these months, don't you think I know that?"

_And, uhhh, Hannah? She's not a consolation prize. _

"How can she not be...not if you really ever loved me?" she continued to mutter to herself as she exited the stairwell that let her out onto the level where she knew she'd parked her car.

_I love her._

"Love her?" she grunted, finally saying what she wished she'd said to him before she'd run away "Oh, really? Really, Booth? Is that so? How can you love her if you loved me like you said you did? How can you? Unless..."

_You know, the last thing I want to do is hurt you, but those are the facts._

"Wait," she said. "That's it, isn't it? That's it. You...you never really loved me, did you?" Brennan continued to the breathless retort that she wished she'd been strong enough to yell at him when she'd had the chance in the SUV. "You never did. If you love her like you say you do, then you can't have loved me. It wasn't real, was it? None of it. You lied to me. It...you...us. None of it was real. That's the only thing that makes any sense. You lied to me."

_Do you want me to, uhhh, to call someone to be with you?_

"I can't believe you,"Brennan roared as she at last came up where she'd left her silver Mercedes that morning. "You, stupid, selfish, shallow son-of-a-bitch!"

Walking up to the hood, as she'd backed the car into the spot, she clenched both her fists in rage and felt the tears that she'd sworn she wouldn't let escape from her eyes begin to fall again. Unable to help herself, she took both balled fists and slammed them down as hard as she could on the hood of her car, not caring that she might dent the expensive car's hood, as a cry of raw pain ripped loose from her throat.

"You son-of-a-bitch," she grunted through her sobs again with a yell of raw emotion, feelings that she'd been keeping bottle up for years finally spilling free. "You son-of-a-bitch!" To punctuate her anger, and pain at the swirling of emotional chaos that she had absolutely no idea how to handle even on the best of days, she continued to pound the hood of her car to relieve some of the stress she was feeling. "How could you do this to me?" she sobbed, some of the anger finally ebbing away as she felt her body go slack against the hood, her hands the only thing that kept her shaking body from collapsing on top of the car. "Oh, God, Booth―what have you done to me?" She tried to shake the tears from her blurry field of vision and failed miserably as she muttered, "God, what have you done to me?"

She stood there for a moment, her body tense but for the sobs that wrecked her battered self. She was so distracted as she stood there crying, she almost didn't realize that she wasn't alone anymore until she felt a light hand on her shoulder.

Quickly, another wave of adrenaline coursed through her body as she spun around on her feet and raised her arms in a defensive stance, acting almost like a wild animal that had been caught unawares. Of course, when she turned, the person who was looking back at her was the very last person on the entire planet she wanted to see. She felt a stab of pain in her gut, and it was the only that feeling that stayed her arm from flying free despite the identity of the man who touched her.

Reluctantly, she lowered her hand, but retained a defensive, if not downright standoffish, bearing. "What are you doing here?" she snapped, looking at his face and taking some pleasure as she watched him wince at the sharpness of her tone.

"I was worried about you," he said, concern evident in his voice. "I know you said you would be fine, and that you didn't need anyone, but―"

"That's right," she cut him off. "I told you. I'm fine. And, I don't need anyone. So, please―go away, Booth."

"I can't," he countered with a shake of his head. "I just can't, Bones, not when we both know that you're not―"

"What?" Brennan snapped. "I said I was fine, Booth. So, what? Are you calling me a liar now?"

"No, not...it's not that, but―"

"You don't belong here," she said, clenching her fists as she tried to regulate her breathing and maintain what thin thread she had on her self-control that was the only thing that was keeping her from unleashing the emotional turmoil she felt because of him. "You can't be here right now. You shouldn't be here. So, please―just go."

"I don't belong here?" he asked, the incredulity clear in his voice. "Bullshit, Bones. Come on. I'm here because I'm your partner, remember? So, yeah, I belong here, and I'm not going anywhere."

"You're not here because you're my partner," she quickly retorted, the bitter accusation clear in her voice. "Earlier? Fine. Okay. I have to concede that point to you. Back at Woodland, you saved my life."

"Damn right I did," he muttered, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his trench coat. "God, Bones―I don't know what the fuck's gotten into you lately, but―"

"But," Brennan interrupted him. "That's when any of your motivations that stemmed from your status as as my partner ceased to drive your actions, Booth."

"What?" he asked. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It's simple," Brennan sneered. "The only reason you're here now is because you're a man who wants to assuage a guilty ego."

"What?" he said as he looked at her in abject confusion. "What the _fuck _are you―"

"Go home, Booth―" Brennan said emphatically. "If you stay here, nothing good can come of it, so please―get the fuck out of here. Just...go home." She stopped and the couldn't help herself as she added, the bitterness clear in her voice, "Your girlfriend's waiting for you...you know―the one who's not a consolation prize?"

Booth's nostrils flared as his eyebrows knit low and hard over his eyes. "Bones," he growled, his teeth gritted as he tried to control his rising anger.

"Go!" she yelled as she spun away from him. "Go away."

She continued to stare at the parallel yellow parking spot lines in the underground garage and counted to ten. For some reason, the unusual fact―that every single space on the level in the underground parking garage where she'd left her silver Mercedes sedan that morning remained unoccupied―didn't process in Brennan's mind. Instead, as she took a breath and clenched her fists again by her sides, she hoped that even just a tenth of the rage that she felt bubbling beneath the surface of her agitated demeanor was somehow roiling off of her and was being conveyed to her partner. After she reached ten, she still felt the anger and resentment and hurt that she felt because of how he'd responded to her impromptu confession in the SUV still present just beneath the surface.

However, after pausing and taking the deep breaths, she felt that―at least for the time being―she'd managed to get some type of tenuous hold on the smoldering rage she'd felt bubbling just beneath the surface of her patchworked cloak of imperviousness. Although she'd once been so proud of how she protected herself in her regal swath of untouchability, she now barely could cobble it together long enough to find the solitude that she sought to soothe the frayed threads of her battered psyche. It was holding together for the moment, and hopefully it would last for long enough so that she might be able to get to the safety of some safe repose where she could finally crack into a thousand tiny metaphorical pieces. And, then, at that point, all she knew she'd want to do was to spend the rest of the night sobbing and alone as she regretted all that she'd lost because of poor timing.

Unfortunately, fate...or Special Agent Seeley J. Booth, since Brennan still didn't believe in fate―even if she conceded the point that perhaps the universe did send messages that members of the human race were supposed to get―had other plans for her. This became clear to Brennan when she finally stopped counting from one to ten and looked back up where her partner had been standing. Instead of seeing the sight of an empty space greet her eyes as she'd so desperately hoped to find, wounded brown eyes stared back at her in askance.

"Oh, God, Booth. Please. Go―" she muttered. "Don't be stubborn about this. I can't...if you stay, I can't do this. Please. Please, don't make me do this. Just...not now. Please...I can't do this. We can't do this. Not this...not now...not tonight. So, please...just go."

"No," he replied, his voice quiet but firm in its importunity. "No way, Bones." He stood there, his feet set apart in a wide enough stance that it was clear from his body language that he had no intention of going anywhere.

"I don't want you here," Brennan snapped, her red-rimmed blue irises staring at him in angry defiance when she realized that he wasn't going to make this easy for her. "I want you _gone_."

"I'm not going," he stubbornly repeated, his jaw hard as he nearly bit out his words.

"If you stay," she warned him. "I can't...I-I won't...if you stay, I won't be held responsible for what happens."

"Right, Bones," Booth snorted derisively, his dark eyes alight with some type of bemused laughter. "Because I'm really scared about what you might do to me."

Suddenly, Brennan quickly closed the distance between them and grabbed a fistful of his khaki colored trenchcoat in each hand. She fisted the material and pulled him towards her as she felt something snap in her overwhelmed mind and battered heart.

"You don't know what I'm capable of, Booth―if you ever really did, which I've come to seriously doubt in the last hour," Brennan said, her voice low and threatening. "But, just so there's no confusion, I'll let you in on a little secret. After tonight, I've got nothing left to lose, Booth―_nothing. _And, you above all people should know that makes me a very dangerous person."

"Dangerous?" he laughed contemptuously. "You're most dangerous when you have a gun. Assuming that you're not packing heat there, Bones, I'm think probably pretty safe." He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere, so you might as well get used to it, okay?"

"Of course," she said. "You doing what you want to do is always where the problems I've got start, isn't it? From the very beginning, that's how it's always been. You do what you want, you take what you want, and you say 'fuck it' to everyone else. Well, you know what, Booth? Fine," Brennan muttered. "Suit yourself...if you want to stay, stay. But, do it knowing that you're not the only selfish son-of-a-bitch who's here right now, so you're staying at your own peril."

"So you're threatening me now?" he snorted. "Look, let me offer you a tip on making threats, okay? Vague insinuations like 'stay at your own peril' are too ephemeral to be useful. A good threat is specific, Bones. Specific and do-able. For instance, 'if you stay, I'll knock your front teeth out with a tire iron,' that's a good threat. So let me say it again—I'm not going anywhere, mmmmkay?"

"Fine," Brennan responded sharply, but refused to let him have the luxury of a direct response to his rather crude words. "Fine. I get it, Booth. I do. You want to stay, so you're staying. Fine. Then, you're staying...but first―" She shivered a bit as she realized how cold and wet she felt from the rain. She refused to let him have the pleasure of seeing her shiver, so she merely said, "Give me your coat."

"What?" Booth asked, his forehead creasing as he was clearly taken aback by her demand. "Why?"

"I said," she said, yanking him so hard that the momentum she had as she pulled him towards her brought him forward on the tips of his feet. "_Give...me...your...coat._"

When she'd finished making her demand, she released him from her grasp, quickly shoving him away so that he partially landed on the hood of her car. Reaching down, she began to hastily unbutton the large black plastic ovals that kept her flimsy black rain slicker to her body. "I'm completely drenched," she said, her fingers nimbly unplucking each button with surprising adroitness given how cold she felt. "And, I'm tired of feeling this way."

"What way?" he asked, narrowing his eyes as he watched her increasing aggressive behavior with a mixture of awkward fascination and concern. "Come on, Bones. Stop playing games."

"I'm not playing," she said truthfully, her voice dangerous in that truthfulness. "I just want to feel something beside the cold. So, for once, I'm actually go to do what I want, and what I want is not to feel wet and cold and unwanted and anything but dry and warm and safe and loved."

She took both hands and firmly grabbed the edge of each side of her jacket and pulled the sodden garment off each arm before she threw it to the floor in a squishy splat as it hit the concrete. Underneath her jacket, she wore the same midnight blue button down shirt she'd had on earlier at the lab. It, too, like all of her other clothing was drenched from her sojourn to Woodland, and it clung to her like a second skin. Quickly, she began to unbutton the shirt.

She could feel Booth's eyes on her as she worked the buttons. But, even she had to admit to herself that she was mildly surprised that there wasn't any exclamation on his part when she took the shirt and peeled it off her skin, letting it fall to the ground in a soft _plop _as it landed on top of the rain slicker that she'd already discarded. Her skin, having taken on a slight opalescence to it in the fluorescent light of the parking garage's interior lighting design, looked like it was made of pearl―a pale ivory tinted with a light blue sheen due to how cold she felt because of all the time she'd spent in wet the rain. Her long hair, while still damp, had started to dry in frizzy ringlets that framed her face. The dark blue demi-cup underwire cotton bra she wore covered much of her breasts since she'd made her choice in lingerie earlier that morning when she dressed for practicality's sake and not with seduction in mind.

Truth to be told, practicality of one sort was still on her mind as she took a step back from where Booth's sat when his ass had landed on the hood of her car. She extended a hand towards him and once again demanded, "Give it to me―your jacket. Take it off. Right now."

"So," he said, arching his eyebrow at her. "What you should have said before when you were threatening me was, 'if you stay here, I'm confiscating your outerwear.' Yeah, because that really sends a fucking chill down my spine. Tortured by the Republican Guard? No problem. Nighttime combat jumps behind enemy lines in Kosovo? Snore. Shoot-outs with mobsters? Been there, done that. Having my coat swiped by my partner? That's a new one."

Smirking at his own mini-rant as he watched Brennan glare at him, Booth laughed and, without another word, quickly shrugged out of the khaki colored trenchcoat. As soon as he handed it over to Brennan, she quickly slipped into it, feeling a bit lightheaded as his scent enveloped her.

_Fuck_, she thought, closing her eyes for a minute as she luxuriated in the warmth and feeling of being so close to him as she let the wave of Boothyness wash over her. She was certain she could almost feel the echo of body heat that had radiated off of him―his broad shoulders, his strong arms, and his hard, well-developed chest. Her nostrils flared at the scent of him. _That smell. Oh, God. He still smells __exactly__ the same...just like I remember. But, how can that be? He's not mine anymore...not that he ever really was. But, he's not even available as a potential sexual partner...or as someone I could love. That means he shouldn't still smell this good to me, right? My brain should know better than to tell me that his pheromones are still so pleasing to me. Fuck._

Her eyes snapped open after a moment, and she looked over to see that Booth was staring at her.

"What?" she growled, immediately annoyed that he had caught her enjoying anything because of him.

"I'm just wondering," he said, staring at her with a strange look in his eyes.

"What?" she snapped again when he let his words trail off.

"What's happened to you, Bones?" he whispered as he stared at her. Gesturing to her with his hand, he shook his head slightly. "I mean, look...none of this...none of this―" His words again trailed off as he looked at her, a pleading clear in his eyes. "None of _this _is you, Bones."

"Wrong," she snapped instantly, biting the word off with more than a hint of malice in her voice. "You're wrong."

"No," he insisted, shaking his head. "I'm not. I _know _you, Bones, and this―_this craziness_―this isn't you...not at all."

"You _used _to know me," she countered, taking pleasure in correcting him. "The operative word being 'used' to know me, Booth. As in the past. As in no longer current. As in outdated. As in you don't know me anymore...if you even ever really did at all...like I said before."

He stared at her her, looking at her like she'd punched him in the gut. For a split second, Brennan felt a blush of vindictive warmth flutter in her chest as she realized that she'd said something that had caused him pain. She watched him with genuine curiosity present in her gaze as she watched him push himself up from the hood of the car and stand on legs that wobbled slightly. He took a step towards her and sighed, the hurt he'd felt at her words still clear on his face.

_Good_, she thought bitterly. _Good. I want him to feel pain. I want him to feel that...I want him to hurt. I do. I want him to feel just like I do._

Booth took a sharp breath through his teeth, and then slowly exhaled it as he pushed away the wince he knew had pinched his face after she'd lashed out at him. "Look, Bones," he said, his voice low and deliberate as he studied her face and tried to tamp down his frustration. "I know that the past few months...they've been hard for you, and―"

"You have no idea!" she yelled as she took a step closer to him, unintentionally backing him up so that when he ran out of room, he accidentally stumbled and half-landed on the sloped hood of her silver Mercedes once again. "Don't you dare," she said, carefully forcing down several gulps of pertinent oxygen into her lungs as she felt her anger spike again. "Don't you dare presume to..."

Her anger caught in her throat as she tried to think of what insults she could toss at him to make him feel as badly as she did―and had felt for some time―in that single moment. Taking a step towards him, she reached out and closed the space between them. Lifting her hand, she took her index finger and jabbed him sharply in the chest.

"You know what, Booth? I've got news for you. You may not want to hear it, but I don't care, so here it is: since you came back from Afghanistan, during all these months while you've been busy fucking your 'isn't-a-consolation-prize'-girlfriend, you know what? Time's passed. Things have happened. And, you missed out on it all. You missed it out because you were too busy getting laid by a woman...a woman who you've treated like the be all and end all of things simply because she was convenient and happened to be able to fall down on her back and make you fall for the oldest trick in the book when you were feeling weak and sad and lonely."

With every word she spoke, Booth's jaw tightened and gritted his teeth until his molars hurt. His eyebrows furrowed, drawing low and hard over his coal-dark eyes which flickered with a rising anger that pulsed from him in waves Brennan could almost feel rolling off of him. His nostrils flared as he clenched and unclenched his fists. He raised his chin and opened his mouth to speak, but in his fury, no words came out.

"And, you know what, Booth? I've got some more news for you," Brennan snarled. "She's not the only woman who's special in this world. She's not the only one...she's not the one who deserves not to be called a consolation prize just because she spreads her legs and lets you fuck her senseless. She's not that good, and no matter what you may think, there's more to being with someone and meaning it when you say you love them than fucking each other silly under a goddamn fig tree!"

Booth's hands flew up as if he could stop her runaway rant with his tensely splayed fingers. "First off, Bones," he snorted. "She _was _pretty fucking good. Actually, mind-rippingly good. And, I mean that, just so there's no confusion here...she was both fucking good and good at fucking. Really, really awesome." He nodded and cocked his head with a smirk as he entertained a private memory.

A haze of bright red clouded Brennan's visual spectrum as Booth continued to speak.

"And, ya know," he said with a grin. "Just in case you were wondering, since you seem so fucking interested in my sex life all of a sudden, fucking her under that fig tree was pretty fucking hot. In fact," he said, a sharp smile coming onto his normally handsome face. "In fact," he repeated. "It was the best fucking sex I've ever had. Hot as fucking hell, really." He waggled his eyebrows and grunted as he looked up and away as he replayed the encounter in his mind. "Mmmmm," he grunted. "She was absolutely incredible―amazing even. The way she raked my back with her nails when I was driving into her, the way those tits of hers swayed with each stroke, and the way she screamed my name as she came all around me like a geyser..._mmmm_..._" _He nodded as he let the newsreel of his memory play through one more time, then added, "Fucking Hannah under that fig tree was the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"Then obviously," Brennan said, her voice very measured through clenched teeth as she spoke with more than a bit of warning in her tone. "You've led a very sheltered life, Booth."

He narrowed his eyes as he looked at her derisively. "You know what?" he sneered. "Maybe you were right. Maybe I did make a mistake. But, it wasn't when I decided to take Hannah up on her offer to be with her. You know what? I think maybe the only mistake I've made here is coming back for you tonight. Maybe I shouldn't have come to check on you if this is all you want to do. That's part of your problem, you know that? It's all you ever want to do, Bones―talk. You just flap those gums of yours and just talk. Talk, talk, talk." He stopped and then tilted his head as he arched an eyebrow at her. "Hell, for someone who was once the poster child for scratching her biological itches, tell me, how long has it been?" He stopped and then snorted, "What...a year? Two years?"

"That's none of your business," Brennan snapped. "I'm not telling you that."

"You don't need to tell me, Bones," Booth snickered. "I know the look of a woman who's getting properly fucked on a regular basis since I look at Hannah every morning after I screw her senseless and every night after I bang her brains out. And, you know what, Bones? You don't have that look―and you haven't had it for a very long time. So, what I gotta know is this...don't tell me, Bones, that you've suddenly found God or something and become a Born-Again Virgin, huh? Because, there's definitely some things that people just can't pull off and that's going way too far even for you." He thought for a moment. "Especially for you." He shrugged noncommittally before he casually added, "Then again, looking on the bright side of things, the longer you go, the better it'll probably be for the guy that gets to pop your born-again cherry. You won't be tight like you were when you were twenty-two, but you'll probably be pretty damn tight." He raised his chin defiantly. "But for all that to happen you'd have to shut up long enough not to drive him away with all your yakking. And that would sure as hell be going against type for you, wouldn't it? Shutting your fucking yap, even if just for once, right?"

"You think all I can do is talk?" Brennan muttered, closing the distance so that as Booth was completely pressed against the hood of her car. She could feel the grill brushing against her kneecaps as she leaned into him. She had somehow entire ended up standing between his legs, leaning down slightly as he reclined on the hood. "Is that it, Booth? You think that's all I'm good for?"

"What does it matter what I think, Bones?" he said with a slight shrug. "Like you said, maybe I've been too busy living my own life and being happy to see what's happening around me. So, if I have...what does it matter?" He huffed dismissively and shook his head. "And no matter how much you like to flap your yap, that makes this entire fucking discussion pointless, Bones," he growled. "And, a complete waste of my time."

"You think," she muttered again, her hands snaking out and hovering over his navel. "You think that all I'm good for is talking? Is that right?"

"I think you've forgotten some important things, yeah," Booth taunted her. "I think you've forgotten how to take a chance. I think you've forgotten how to say 'fuck it,' to be spontaneous and just do something with no thought of what might happen afterwards―if you were ever capable of it in the first place, which I'm coming to seriously doubt since that would mean you'd have to have the courage to pull the fucking trigger. And, you know what, Bones? For all your talk over the years, all your whiny ramblings about how good a shot you are with a gun, the simple fact of the matter is you've never really taken aim and fired when it counted."

He stopped and then raised his hand as he snapped his fingers and said, "Oh, wait. That's not quite right. That's actually a lie. I'm sorry. I was wrong because you actually _can _pull the trigger when you think you're territory's getting threatened. Remember? 'Cause that's what happened, wasn't it, the night at the Checkerbox when Pam Noonan shot me? You took my gun, pointed it at her, pulled the trigger, and didn't think twice when you killed her because she'd done the unthinkable and started sniffing around your territory. She got a little too close to pissing on your personal fire hydrant―you know..._me_. Ain't that right? So, all in all, I think it's a pretty good bet to say you're only capable of pulling the trigger when you think your back's up against the wall, and you think you're going to lose me. But, I've got news for you, too, Bones. So, here's a fucking newsflash that almost everyone else already knows. You know what? You can't _lose _me―because you never really _had _me."

"Oh, please, Booth," Brennan told him, the hostility in her voice making her tone come in a harsh rant. "Come on―is that the best you've got? Tell me something I don't fucking know since we're being honest with one another―finally."

"Oh, yeah?" Booth countered. "And what is it do you think I'm not being honest about?"

"You fell for the oldest trick in the book!" Brennan yelled. "Hannah spread her legs, gave you a fuckhither look, and you fell for it, hook, line, and sinker―so the saying, I believe, goes."

"You know what?" Booth retorted. "I've had about enough of you insulting Hannah, so cut it the fuck out, okay?" He looked away, shaking his head, then brought his gaze back up to meet hers. "You know, you're just jealous, Bones. It kills you that I came back with somebody, and not just anybody, but someone who's smart, funny, accomplished, strong, and independent. But not just all that, but someone that people like, the kind of person people like to be around and open up to. The kind of person who can walk into a place, stand at the corner of the bar, and half an hour later she's the mayor of the place. That fucking _kills _you, doesn't it? She's smart, she's hot, and people like her." His eyes narrowed and twitched as he watched her face pale, then redden as she processed what he'd said. "Yeah, so I'm really kinda over hearing you piss all over Hannah. It's just jealousy, Bones. Fucking petty jealousy, and I'm sick of it."

"Why? What's there to be sick about, aside from your obnoxiously inflated defense of your latest blonde fuck?" Brennan asked, her anger barely constrained. "I thought we were being honest here, Booth, and what I've said has more truth in it than any of the bullshit you've just verbally spewed and that's the truth."

"No, it's not," Booth countered. "The truth of the matter is all of this bullshit you're spewing has only come up because...well, fuck if I know why you're doing it now aside from the fact that you're throwing your little temper tantrum over there because I fucked up your plans."

"My _plans_?" Brennan responded, the incredulity clear in her voice.

"Yeah," Booth said. "I think the fact is that you've never shown the least fucking bit of interest in being anything more than just partners before tonight, okay? Hmm?" He rolled his eyes. "To hell with what I wanted, right? You never wanted me until someone else did. And, you know how I know that, Bones? You know how I know that? It's because, unlike you, I was willing to take a chance―to put myself out there, my heart on the line, and yeah. I was willing to pull the trigger to see what might happen between us. But, you shot me down. And, I didn't like it. I hated it, as a matter of fact, but I dealt with it. I moved on, and it's only when I finally did that you decided that you'd made a mistake and wanted to fuck up my life again just when I was starting to make a life with someone else and enjoy things and actually be happy. What the fuck, Bones?" Booth turned away and snorted dismissively, then turned back to her. "What the fuck were you thinking?" he yelled. "For fuck's sake, Bones!"

"I-I..." Brennan tried to come up with some response to his tirade, but his anger quickly cut her off.

"What did you fucking think would happen, huh?" he spat. "Did you think you could just change your mind just like that and everything would be okay? That I was gonna just sit around with my thumb up my ass waiting for you to realize you'd fucked up, huh? Did you think that you could just erase everything that had happened before we went our separate ways, and I caught the big bird to the sandbox, and you ran off to Indonesia to find where Adam the Australopithecine and Mitochondrial Eve built their little love-nest in the jungle? Because, you know what? If you did, you're a damn fool. It doesn't work that way, alright? So enough with all this crap about you being better than Hannah. You're just jealous and pissy because you missed your fucking chance, and because you don't have the stones to admit it, you're gonna make yourself feel better by calling my girlfriend a slut because she's sleeping with me. The truth is, you wish you'd taken your chance with me years ago, but, having missed your fucking chance, pun intended, you've got sour grapes. I think that about sums it up, don't you, Bones?"

"No―"

"Oh, please," he snapped. "Get a fucking grip, Bones―_really_."

Brennan's red-rimmed blue eyes flashed brightly again as she reached out and grabbed a handful of his charcoal grey button-down shirt in her fist. "You know what, Booth?" she growled, using the leverage of his shirt to pull him towards her. "I think I've _finally _got a fucking grip on something for the first time in a very long time."

"Oh, yeah, Bones? Really?" he laughed. His laughter merely served to aggravate her anger even more than he'd already done to that moment in time―something Brennan didn't think was possible. "And, what's that?"

"You," she muttered, as her voice became so low that it almost caressed him like a piece of velvet. "I've finally got _you_."

"Oh, please," he snickered again. "Like I said...you don't have me―you've never had me. And that's part of the problem. It's been driving you nuts because you can't control me, and you can't control how I make you feel, and yet you love every bit of it." He leaned in and placed his lips near her ear so she could feel his hot breath on her skin. "Every fucking bit of it. You've probably been going home at nights and thinking about me, huh? You think about me, about being with me, and about really _being _with me, and what it'd be like with me." He nodded at his own words. "Yeah, I bet you think about me, in your bed, the way I'd make you feel, and what you'd like me to do to you. You're probably rubbing yourself off to thoughts of me, aren't ya there, Bones? Hmmm? You probably think about it—and me—every night. I bet all that thinking about me takes up a lot of real estate in that genius brain of yours. You probably can't even get off without thinking about me fucking you, which is why you've been living the life of a damn nun the last, what, two years? Hmmm? That's right. But when it came to actually making a move, making a fucking move and doing something other than letting a lifetime's worth of fucking excuses rattle around the inside of your damn skull or diddling yourself to a mindless, dripping oblivion, you were all talk and no game. And that's what kills you the most, huh? You've been burning for me for fucking _years._ Control me? You can't control me. You can't even control your fucking self. You can't control shit, Bones. Control? What a fucking joke."

"Oh, I don't know, Booth," Brennan muttered as she stared intently into his eyes and refused to acknowledge his taunts with any direct comments of her own. "I think I've managed to get pretty good control of the situation―and control of _you_."

"Oh, really?" he said, the mocking lilt in his voice meant to provoke her.

"Yes," came the dangerously soft whisper of a response.

"Well, you know what, Bones?" he muttered, his moist breath warm against her ear. "I've got another fucking newsflash for you...you aren't in control here any more than you have been any other time. And if you want me to, I can prove it...simple. Real easy, actually―really fucking easy."

"How's that?" she muttered.

Instead of answering with words, Booth's hands shot out and grabbed for her, reaching for her hips. The movement caught Brennan off-guard as he yanked her towards him, forcing her to stand on the tip of her toes as he dug his fingers into the soft flesh of her curvy hips though the unpleasant dampness of her wet black dress trousers. Her eyes flashed again as she realized what he was doing at almost the exact second he moved his hands from her hips to her ass.

As his palms cupped the curve of her ass cheeks, she felt another rush of something flare in her. She'd felt so much, so many different emotions and responses in the past twenty-four hours alone, she'd long ago given up trying to identify or give a name to what she was feeling or to even try to understand why she was feeling that way or considering the consequences of how those feelings were causing her to act. Instead, she merely did what Booth had accused her of being unable to do just a few minutes before―and, perhaps, up until that very moment, she hadn't actually been capable of doing it. But, now, with his hands finally on her, she'd crossed the point of no return and took him with her.

"You want me," she groaned as she pressed her body up against his, dragging her full breasts against the slick fabric of the shirt he wore. "I know it. Admit it."

"I've never not wanted you," he groaned. "Me wanting you was _never _the problem."

"I want you," she muttered. "I want you, Booth―and I'm going to have you."

As he opened his mouth―whether to take a breath or in surprise at her words or maybe even to say something to cut her off, Brennan couldn't say―she moved her head forward and smashed her lips up against his. For a moment, the surprise of her action seemed to astound the pair of them. Both of their lips were cold and wet from having been in the rain. Brennan's were slightly chafed and raw from where she'd rubbed them thin over the past few days from the consternation that the Eames' case had made her suffer. However, when a part of each of their brains' realized they were finally touching lips to lips, it was as if some type of switch had been flipped. At almost the same point, both of them opened their mouths wider and tongues darted out, resuming the war that the pair had been fighting with words just a few minutes earlier. They fought for dominance, each one trying to see who could surge deeper into the other's mouth, each one trying to see who could last the longest before the need to breathe caused one to pull away.

Sensing that she was fighting a losing battle, as a sense of euphoria caused her to feel lightheaded, Brennan used what little rational thought she had left to reach between them and work her way to his belt buckle. She fumbled with it as she realized she was running out of oxygen, and finally gave up, conceding the point to Booth. However, before she pulled away for a breath of air, she moved her palm and cupped him through his wet slacks.

"Mine," she muttered, as she heard Booth groan something unintelligible as she stroked him. "You're mine."

"Like fuck I am," he finally countered with a breathless grunt, wincing as he felt her fingers coast across his groin. "I don't...belong...to you."

"You can't say that...and expect me to believe it...when you kiss me like that," she panted. "Not especially when I can feel you getting hard, Booth. Because...that's what this is, isn't it? You're getting turned on by me...by what I'm doing...by what we're doing. Admit it."

"It's a natural response, Bones," he finally managed to mutter. "Any guy who has some girl's―any girl's―hands on his dick like that is gonna get hard if she's touching him...like that."

"No―" she insisted. "You're lying."

"I'm a lot of fuckin' things, Bones," he spat in disgust at the fact that she was right, the fact that she knew she was right, and the fact that there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. "But I'm not a fuckin' liar. I've never lied to you. I'm not lying to you now."

"Bullshit," she told him. "Your cock is hard right now, and it's getting harder with every second that passes. And it's getting hard because _I'm _the one who's finally touching you like this. Admit it."

"No―"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," she muttered. "Liar," she said, reaching down once more for his belt buckle and, suddenly emboldened and her mind just slightly clearer than it had been in the moments after pulling away from their kiss―in days, truthfully―she jerked his buckle away from the strap, letting it hang open as she deftly unfastened the top of his trousers. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!" She gulped down more air again before she muttered under her breath, "You didn't think I could pull the trigger, Booth?" She began to unzip his trousers then, for some reason she didn't entirely understand, she stopped halfway and moved her hands up and tugged his charcoal-gray button down shirt out of his pants. "Well, here's a newsflash for _you_―you were wrong. Because here I am...it's happening."

One by one she began to pluck loose the buttons of his shirt, pleased to feel his damp, naked skin beneath her fingers as each button pulled away from its corresponding buttonhole. She made quick work of his dress shirt, parting it and grinning at the broad expanse of smooth olive skin she revealed. Whether it was his arousal or the sudden exposure of his damp skin to the fan-driven air in the garage, his flat male nipples were hard and erect and, for a fleeting moment, she gave thought to tonguing them, dragging her wet tongue in tortuous circles around and around his nipples until he moaned her name. But, she shook her head and pushed the thought away as she reached for his shirt and tugged it over the curve of his shoulders since she'd decided this would be all about her and not him. However, after a few seconds, she paused as she stared at him, daring him to see if he'd tell her to stop what she was doing.

Shrugging out of his shirt, one arm at a time, Booth laughed at her reluctance.

"Whatcya waiting for there, Bones? Are you really gonna do it or what?" he taunted her. "I don't know. Are you really? Because if you are, I think ya missed somethin' down there, doc," he added with a snicker. "Come on, Bones. You want my dick, don't you? You've wanted it for years. So go ahead, touch it. You know you want to. You're just about going out of your fucking mind wanting to, so just do it. Touch it."

"If you think I'm gonna whip out your stiff cock and start sucking you into oblivion, you've got another thing coming, Booth―and I don't mean anything that's going to happen because of a blow job, by the way," she muttered back as he thrust his hips at her.

"Who said I wanted to stick my dick in your mouth, Bones?" he countered breathlessly. "Especially when there are so many better places to put it, huh?"

She narrowed her eyes at his thinly-veiled challenge and then brought her hands back to the front of his waist and, in single, swift, sharp motion, unzipped his fly, then, finally having a bit of room to maneuver, she slid her hands around his hips, under the waistband of his boxers, and pulled. She moved away from a moment, and then surveyed her work. After letting him shrug his arms out of his shirt, she stood before him, taking in the sight of his pants unbuckled and unzipped, hanging loosely on his narrow hips as he reclined against the hood of her car, propped up on his forearms with a dark look in his eyes as he licked his lips but made no move to reach for her. Brennan surveyed the sight before her and moved in again, reaching with both hands for the waistband of his slacks. With a soft grunt, he raised his hips off the car's hood just enough to let her slide them off. He watched with narrow eyes, his head rolling to the side a little. Booth gasped when he felt her roughly yank his pants off, her fingernails scratching the soft skin of his hips as the waistband of his boxers scraped against his arousal as she began to drag them down his legs. She jerked them off his bony hips, causing him to hiss as the the fabric caught against his stiff arousal before it bounced free. She shimmied his boxers over his thighs and down to his knees.

"Oh, shit," he hissed, sucking in a hard breath but uttering no other sign of protest. "_Nnnnnggth..._"

Brennan grinned wickedly as she saw his cock bounce upward as it was finally freed from the constraints of his pants. She stood there for a few long moments, admiring the length, shape and thickness of it, and the way the modest nest of crisp dark curls gathered at its base.

She wanted him.

She wanted it.

She wanted to taste it, to feel it, to have it at long last.

_She wanted it all._

And, more importantly, she was going to get it...she was going to take it..._everything_. She was going to take it all...finally.

All of it. All of him. Everything.

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><p><strong>AN:** _My_ _oh my. What an evil place to break. Well, _**dharmamonkey**_ wants to point out that _**Lesera128**_ is responsible for deciding how we divide this piece into chapters, so blame her for the evil cliffies. She's better at them, anyway _

::smirk::

_Seriously, though. We told you this one was dark and angsty. Was that dark and angsty enough for ya? You wanna see what happens next? We're sure you do. _

_You know the deal. You gotta pay the boatman_ ::wink::_ And he doesn't take silver. Only reviews._

_So, please, leave us a review. Tell us what you think so far. Go ahead and click on that sparkly blue button there and let us know how we did on this one. __In the meantime, we'll be working on getting Part II ready for you folks._

_Thanks!_


	24. 24—Pyrite, Pt II

**A Very Bad Idea**

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><p><strong>By<strong>**:** dharmamonkey & Lesera128  
><strong>Rated<strong>**: **M  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>**: **Ummm, nope, we still don't own anything. We have, however, apparently become squatters in the sandbox that we crashed... so, umm... yeah. There we go.

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><p><strong>AN****: **_Okay, folks. More dark, angsty, edgy unf follows. That's what you wanted, right?_

**Unf Alert****:** _Surprise, surprise. This piece contains unfness. (Duh.) This chapter in particular has lots of really, really emotionally edgy unf, including the coarsest language Dharmasera has ever thrown your way. (The kind that peels wallpaper off the wall.) So, if you aren't interested in edgy, angsty unf, stop reading immediately, if not sooner. If the foregoing does not describe you, keep reading._

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><p><strong>VII. Pyrite, Part II<strong>

**Pertinent Details on Scenario #7****: **Set sometime between the episode 5x22- "The Beginning in the End" and 6x8- "The Doctor in the Photo."

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><p>For the first time, in what Dr. Temperance Brennan could admit was most likely her entire life, she felt completely and totally out of control. She had no idea how they'd gotten from her feeling angry and rejected and bitter as she headed towards where her car was parked with the hopes of simply run away to...well, to <em>this. <em>And, she wasn't quite sure what _this _was...aside from the fact that she'd stripped her partner naked, ordered him to assume the position on the hood of her car―which, quite surprisingly, he'd done without really any significant resistance―and both of them looked like they were both more than ready for Brennan to stop running and finally do _something_.

_No more running_, she thought. _Mine. For now...just for now, he's mine. He can't reject me. He can't say no. I-I...I can take what I want from him. I can...I __can__, and I will._

She stood over him, looking at him with a critical eye as she took in every single inch of the sight of him with an assessing glint in her eye. Finally, she nodded and took a step towards him, uttering the first words that either one had spoken in some time.

"You fucked a blonde under a fig tree in a war zone," she muttered. "I bet you thought that was exciting, didn't you, Booth? I bet you thought it was sexy as all fuck to be able to strip your desert fatigues down around your ankles and roll over onto your back until Hannah could straddle you and fuck you senseless. Was that it? Was that what you found so fucking sexy? When she used you like that? When she took what she wanted from you and got you to think she was being grateful even though she really wasn't doing more than using you as a glorified vibrator? Because, you know what? I can be that cold and selfish and self-serving. I can take and use and give nothing back. I can do that, too, and I can guarantee you since I'm so much fucking better at everything I do than she could ever possibly be, then this is going to be so _much _better than that."

He stared at her, his eyes heavy-lidded as he waited for her to continue, unsure in that moment what he should say even if he could, in any case, form a coherent thought as he watched her move in like a lioness after a gazelle.

"Is that what you want, Booth? Is that what you wanted all along? Have you wanted someone to use you for their own purposes? To take what they could from you until they'd used you up and nothing was left? Or, was Hannah just the first woman you could find that scratched your metaphorical itch when it came to your sexual fetishes? Because, I can assure you," she continued as she reached out and grasped him firmly in her fist as she began to pump him from base to top and back again, eliciting a low sigh from his lips. "If I'd known one of the things that you found erotic was the idea of fucking in public, I would've made it known long ago that I had no qualms about indulging in that particular sexual scenario."

"Oh yeah?" he finally managed to rasp as his eyes closed and he leaned his head back against the car's hood that he was grateful was cool to the touch. "What? Would you have let me fuck you at a crime scene there, Bones? Against a tree somewhere out of earshot of the FBI techs, or after all the forensic vans have pulled away? Or maybe you think I'd have just taken you in the back seat of the SUV, huh?" He gritted his teeth as she jerked him in her hand. "Awww, fuck―"

When he grunted and started to buck his hips up off of the car's hood, Brennan quickly released him from her fist. He immediately grunted in protest, and his presumption that she was there to please him only infuriated her more. Leaning forward, she took her hands and dug her nails into the left and right side of his pectoral muscles respectively. "No," she warned him. "Don't even think about it. I already told you—this isn't about you. This is about _me_, Booth. Just me. And that means I'm taking, and you're fucking giving, but on my terms—not yours. Mine. Do you understand? Because you really need to get that through your thickset cranium, okay? Because that's how this is going to go. Do you understand?"

"I suppose," he muttered, as he gasped for breath. "If that's what the princess wants, that's what she's gonna get. Isn't that how it works, right?"

Brennan's brow furrowed as she tried to understand what she was certain was a veiled insult given Booth's tone and demeanor. But, given the emotional chaos she felt, combined with her steadily increasing arousal, she found she had no patience to struggle through finding the actual meaning behind the words Booth had uttered. "What the f_uck_ does that mean?" she quickly countered.

"Whatever you want me to do, Bones," he choked out as he gulped for air, his chest heaving and glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. His olive skin was beginning to flush, whether from anger, desire, his own body heat, or all three, he wasn't sure. "Then, that's it. That's what you want me to say, right? Whatever you tell me to do, I'll do it. I won't even think twice about it. You want me to break the one rule I've never broken in my entire life, toss my honor aside, and fuck you when I've got my girlfriend waiting at home for me? Fine. I'll do it. You want me to lie here and let you fuck me like you think Hannah screwed me when we first met and be grateful for the fact that you're using me like I'm some glorified dildo? Fine—if that's what you want, you got it. You want to use me to make yourself come so that you'll feel better about the fact that you're going to wake up tomorrow sad and lonely and miserable in the morning light? Fine. Let's do it. I'm ready when you are."

He paused, his breaths rising and falling in pants after his rant. as he waited for her to say something. Instead, Brennan only stared at him, remaining unusually quiet, and her quiet angered Booth.

"Yeah," he said with a dark laugh. "Whatever you want to do, Bones―fine. Let's do it. Because I think you're dying to know what you've been missing out on all this time...ever since you froze and ran away that night in the rain during our first case. You've been scared out of your goddamn genius mind ever since, and now I think you want me to fuck your goddamn squint brains out, don't ya?" He squirmed against the cool metal of the hood but his eyes held fast to her gaze as the obscene and lewd offers he was making continued to roll off his tongue the longer she had no response for what he was saying. "You want to take my place here, huh, and let me peel you open like a hot, wet little pink flower and lick you all up and down in your juicy, tight little pussy until you've come so many times it almost hurts for me to touch you? And just when you think you can't take it anymore, you'll be damned if you do and damned if you don't, because you think you're gonna die if I don't fuck you right then, huh? I'll do it, too—I'll plow right into you with my cock and fuck the living shit outta you. Hell, yeah, I will. I'll fuck you so hard and deep you'll be walking funny for the next two days. Or do you want me to bend you over the fender here and pile into you from behind? You want me to take you like that? Hmmm? That way you don't have to look me in the eyes when I'm fucking you. Or you wanna go a little edgier, Bones, huh? You want me to take you in your cute little ass? Have you ever been fucked in the ass, Bones? You want me to pop your ass-cherry, huh? Come on, Bones. Tell me what you want. You want me to fuck you?" He narrowed his eyes and waited for an answer. "Tell me what you want. Tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it. You said this was about you, not me. So just tell me, and whatever it is, I'll do it."

His bravado and insincerity infuriated her as her cheeks flushed with renewed anger.

"I'll tell you what I want," she said as she spoke finally, her voice taking on a silky dangerous thread of warning. "I want you to shut the fuck up, move your ass up on the top of the hood of my car, and make yourself useful," she spat at him.

She then straightened her back and quickly shrugged out of his coat―an action the irony of which wasn't lost on either of them given how much emphasis she'd made in demanding that he give it to her. Her hands ruthlessly went to the buttons of her black trousers. She flung off one flat pump that she was wearing and then the other, kicking each one away as her feet landed on the cool and smooth concrete surface of the parking deck that wasn't nearly as unpleasant to the touch as she imagined it to be given what the weather was like outside. In fact, it seemed almost strangely warm and pleasant to the touch of her bare feet. But, other matters, i.e., knocking that self-satisfied cocky smirk off of Booth's face, took precedence as Brennan pushed the odd observation away.

Tugging at the zipper of her pants so hard that she almost ripped it free of the teeth's grasp of one another, she stripped the pants and her simple white cotton string bikinis off of her hips and down her legs in one fluid movement. Once she was free of all of her clothing but for her bra, she prowled towards him, the anger and resentment and hurt that she so clearly felt driving her emotions as she came closer and closer to where he reclined on the car hood.

"You didn't wait," Brennan hissed as she widened her stance and lifted one leg and then the other to give her better leverage to get into position on the car's hood. "You made me love you, and then you left me. You're just like all the others, Booth. You're no fucking better than any of them—my father, Michael, Sully...every dick who's ever fucked me over...either metaphorically or in actuality...all of them took what they wanted from me and left. But, not this time—because you know what? _I'm _the one who's going to fucking take—I'm the one doing the taking tonight. Just me."

"Oh, really?" he muttered, finally saying something as he felt her warm body slither up his legs and then situate herself with one knee straddling each side of his body as she sought some balance on the car's hood. "Huh," he grunted, his breath hitching in his throat as he watched her move over him.

"Yes," she muttered, the angry hurt clear in her voice. "Tonight, I'm no one's fucking consolation prize."

"You gonna really do it?" he asked, his head snapping up at he looked at how she positioned herself a bit precariously over his groin. "I dunno, Bones. I don't think you have it in ya to really do it. Huh, Bones? You gonna take what you want and never look back? Really? Are you? Because I don't think you have it in you. I'm not sure ya can really do it."

She narrowed her pale blue eyes in a hateful stare that was so hard, it seemed that it might cut glass. As she hovered over him, balancing herself just above his twitching arousal, her left eye twitched as an idea suddenly flashed in her mind. She hesitated, then, shifting her weight onto her left hand, she moved her right hand up and grabbed Booth's left wrist, roughly swinging his arm up and pinning his hand against the upper portion of the hood, wedging the side of his hand against the windshield spray jet. He grunted, whether because of the discomfort or the idea of being pinned down she wasn't sure, and her mouth broke into a wicked half-grin at his response.

"Why not?" she muttered as she reached down and grabbed him, lining up his stiff cock with her wet hole, the head already glistening with evidence in the fluorescent light of the parking garage of the precum that had gathered on the tip and proved that he was just as aroused as she. "It's what you did...what you've always done, isn't it?"

He hissed again at her touch, and he could only groan as she let the tip of his cock rest just an inch or two inside of her as she flexed her rather well toned thigh muscles, thankful they were giving her enough control.

"God, you're so wet," he groaned, as a flush of her moisture had mixed with his own fluids before she'd closed the distance between them. "Oh, fuck—"

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then, sliding her left hand up and, just as she had with his other hand, grabbed him by the wrist and pinned his right hand to the hood of the car in the very same moment as she plunged down hard onto him. Booth's eyes rolled back into his head as she pressed herself down as far as she could go, taking him within her until he was ball-deep to the hilt inside her.

"Oh, God—" she groaned, as she felt Booth stretching her, both because of his size, the angle of penetration, and the fact that she hadn't had sex in almost two years. "Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God—"

She stayed there for a moment, the feelings she was experiencing at _finally _having done something that could _never _be undone, could _never _taken back, could _never _changed between them...it all overwhelmed her at the same time the physical sensations short-circuited her limbic system.

"Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God—" she muttered again, panic suddenly piercing holes through the lust-fueled angry haze that had clouded her rational thought processes.

_Oh, fuck, _a voice whispered to herself. _He's inside me. He's inside me. Booth's inside me. Booth. My partner. Booth. He's finally inside me. Oh, fuck_―

Instinctively, as that realization rocked her to her logical core—and not in a good way—the typical response that Brennan always had in these situations kicked in: she panicked. And, in that panic, she moved to run...putting much distance between her and the source of her fear as possible.

However, as if he'd heard her internal ramblings, Booth suddenly looked up from the hood of the car and an angry glare radiated off his face.

"Oh, no you fucking don't," he growled, trying to free his hands as if to grab Brennan's hips and yank her towards him at almost the same moment she'd moved to pull away from him. The result was that Brennan fell back on top of him with a grunt that knocked the air out of both of them slightly.

"You did this," he snarled, after he caught his breath, although Brennan remained on top of his body. "You...started...this...and you're damn well going to finish it." How he'd managed to stay inside her throughout the small scuffle was somewhat of a minor miracle that neither one of them could really understand.

"No," she began, shaking her head furiously at him. "No, I-I can't. I won't—"

"Fuck, yes!" he yelled. "This is one time, you're not running, Bones. You wanted this—_you wanted me_, and I've given you everything I ever had...everything I ever was. You wanted it, you got it. And this time you're damn well going to take it. Remember? That's what you said you were going to do, wasn't it? Huh? You were gonna take everything you wanted and never look back. So, do it. For fuck's sake, do it! You wanted to fuck me, so _fuck _me!"

He accented his point by brutally thrusting his hips up into her.

"You bastard," she muttered, leaning even more of her weight onto her hands as she lifted herself slightly off of him, sucking in a quiet breath as she felt his filling thickness retreat ever so slightly from her. "Who in the hell do you think you are?"

"I think I'm the bastard who has his cock in you, Bones, and now that you finally got what you've always said you wanted, you don't know what the fuck to do with it," he grunted. He paused and then his dark eyes—normally a soft and warm brown, but now darkened so black that it was almost like watching the night sky during a storm—narrowed again as he mockingly added, "Of course, that's on you...not me. Because, like we discussed, I've never had any problems in the fucking department..."

He closed his eyes and shook his head in derision before opening his eyes and meeting her smoldering stare.

"All of them, Bones," he said with a dark laugh. "All of the ones that have come before you? Rebecca...Tessa...Rebecca again...Cam...Catherine..._Hannah_. All of them were strong enough women to know what they wanted and not be prissy little pansies who didn't know what to do with a real man once they had them. But, you—you wouldn't know what to do with a real man's cock if it were stiff and inside you and all you had to do was move." He paused and then shot her a look as he laughed evilly. "Oh, wait—I forgot. It already _is _inside you, and you still don't know what to do with it."

Her lips curled into a sneer as she readjusted her position, and the anger fueled lust-filled haze that had clouded her mind earlier began to return in full force.

She lifted herself off of him again, her mind rebelling at the sensation of no longer feeling quite as full of him as she had been a moment before, and he took a sharp intake of breath between his closed teeth at the moment. Clenching her jaw, Brennan plunged down once more and began to move in a steady rhythm. She felt the sweat on the palms of his hands as she leaned once more onto her hands, grinding his knuckles into the hard steel of the car's hood. Seeing his face this way—his jaw tense, his teeth gritted as he bit into his own lip, his brown eyes rolled back into his head—sucked her deeper into a roiling spiral of ecstasy. Booth's head rolled a little to one side and he tried to lift his head, but with a harsh, guttural grunt, she snapped her hips back and threw every ounce of force she had into impaling herself on him. Fractions of a second later, she felt herself break.

"Aaaaaghhhh!" she shouted, her voice reverberating off the cold, hard concrete walls of the parking structure. "I'm better than _any _of them," she gasped as she continued to move up and down his stiff cock, her arousal beginning to slowly, ever so slowly, to peak again, even more intensely—almost painfully—with each stroke. "I'm better than _all _of them."

"Then, fucking...prove it," he grunted, his hands steadying her hips as she moved. "You wanted to fuck me, so _fuck me_." His brow folded hard over his flinty eyes. "Come on, Bones," he taunted her. "Pull the fucking trigger, take the fucking shot. Just...do...it!"

She leaned forward, bringing her chest flush against his, shifting her movements somewhat so that she rolled her hips back and forth against his, jerking herself onto him with sharp, fast movements. Stroking him with her snug, wet and ever-tightening flesh, she smiled as she saw him roll his head to one side and then the other before leaning his head all the way back, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed hard, trying to move to meet her strokes, but finding himself frustrated by the unpredictable way she sped up and slowed down again as she rammed him into her.

Suddenly, she stopped moving. "You've got a lot of gall, Booth," she sneered. "To taunt me like that. See, Booth? I've already come. I've gotten from you what I wanted. I could walk away, right fucking now, and leave you with little more than a potentially disabling case of blue balls, which to be honest, is exactly what you deserve." Brennan rolled her hips back and stroked over him one last time before raising herself up again, just enough so she could move her hands between them. "Lucky for you, Booth, you're a beneficiary of my selfishness tonight since I need you to do what I want to do, because I want to come again. And, mark my words, I will."

Placing her hands on his chest, she resumed her movements, leaning into each stroke as she applied just enough delicious pressure in exactly the right place to send herself spiralling towards a second inevitable release. She felt herself winding closer and closer but, frustratingly, she couldn't quite get where she wanted to go. She looked down at him, his neck exposed to her as he clenched his eyes shut, sucking in his breath between gritted teeth. She let her fingers skate over his firm, tight nipples once, then twice, before squeezing them between her thumbs and forefingers, pinching them hard. She laughed aloud, and he cried out, their voices echoing together off the concrete walls of the Jeffersonian parking structure. Brennan pinched his nipples again, even harder, then felt herself fall, weightless, into her release. Moments later, she felt him grunt and spasm beneath her, pulsing his own release into her, and her lips curved into a wide smile as she felt his come coat her insides with each pulse.

When she'd collapsed on top of him, she shifted a bit so that she felt only a small pang of regret when he slipped out of her, and she felt a wetness on the inner softness of her thighs as their combined fluids dribbled down her legs. Rolling away from him and onto her back, Brennan was thankful that she had enough room to lie back on the hood without actually falling off. She swallowed once, clenched her eyes shut, and then opened them to stare at the concrete ceiling of the parking deck.

"What have you done to me?" she finally whispered, hoping that by keeping her voice low, she'd stop the insecure and pitiful whimper that she knew was hovering just at the edge of her being from coming into her voice. "What's happening to me?"

Leaning up a bit on his forearms, Booth looked over at her and sighed. "You're in love," he said evenly in a voice that differed from his earlier tone in that it seemed free of sarcasm and derision and seemed, to her ear, curiously sincere.

"I was in love with you before," she muttered with a small shake of her head, pushing herself up in a way that mimicked Booth's position as she looked over at him.

"Yeah," he agreed. "But, you didn't have to admit it before...or live with admitting it. Loving someone, admitting you love someone and living with the fact that you've publicly admitted you love someone are three entirely separate things, Bones."

"It doesn't matter," Brennan responded, nearly biting off the words as each left her mouth. "I was ready. I _was _ready to live with loving you...and with you knowing it, too. I've been ready for months―ever since we came back to the States."

"But, then I threw you a curveball, didn't I?" Booth said, raw emotion bleeding back into his voice.

"What?" Brennan blinked at him in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Booth told her. "That night that we came back...that night that we met at the coffee cart on the Mall, I threw a monkey wrench into your plans, didn't I? I did...because I moved on, just like I said I would."

"You mean, _tried _to move on," Brennan muttered, pursing her lips a bit as she frowned at him.

Booth sat up a bit straighter and then shrugged. "Whatever you want to call it, Bones," he said. "The bottom line's that I wasn't ready to fall into your clean and neat scenario there the night we met on the Mall at the coffee cart. I didn't do what I was supposed to do―even if you don't want to admit it, you know I'm right―and you've been spiralling ever since."

"No," she quickly countered with a sharp shake of her head. "No, you're wrong. That's not true."

"Oh, really?" he laughed, amazed at her level of denial. "Then, what do you call what you've been doing to yourself for the last three months? Huh?"

"What do you mean?" Brennan asked, narrowing her eyes at him in clear suspicion.

_You can't know about that. You just can't, _Brennan thought as panic flooded her body as she feared he might have discovered one of the biggest secrets she'd been keeping for months. _You just can't know about that. It's not possible...not when I didn't even realize it before tonight. So, you just can't_―

"Oh, come on, Bones," Booth snorted. "After what just happened, what's the fucking point in beating around the bush now? Just come clean already."

"I don't know what―"

"Hannah!" Booth said, a bit of emotion coming into his voice as he snapped and cut her off. "Alright? This is about Hannah, isn't it? I mean, Jesus, Bones...what have you allowed yourself to do because of me?"

"I've tried to be a good partner, a good friend," she began, repeating a litany that she'd told herself so often in the past that she could almost recite it by heart without so much as a second thought. "I've tried to support you in whatever way I could because you said that Hannah made you happy."

"Not busting my balls about Hannah and keeping things on an even keel at work would be what most people who were good partners and friends did, Bones," Booth sighed as he reached down and scratched his left thigh. He then looked up at her as he asked, "But, that's not what you did, now, is it?"

Brennan was silent as she flushed with embarrassment at the thought of him finding out something that she felt so disgusted about with herself in times of quiet when no one else was around to see her indulge in such wallowing.

"Is it?" he asked again. "Huh?"

"No," she said finally, her voice small and weak and the whimper that she'd feared finally manifesting itself in her tone. Still, she pushed on as she withered a bit under his gaze. "I-I...I don't know why I did what I did."

"Oh, that one's easy, Bones," he said with a snort. "I'm not even a rocket scientist and even I know the answer to that one so let me help you out. You tried to become Hannah's best friend and kept putting yourself through hell by being around her when she was with me so that you could torture yourself." He explained it as if it were the most simplistic and self-evident thing in the world to understand. "You came up with the right answer at the wrong time...but you were a day late and a dollar short. And, when you realized it, you did the next best thing since you didn't know how to let me go. You punished yourself by doing what other weak women do...you stuck around to let me rub your nose in my relationship with Hannah because you loved me more than the self-respect that you used to have in spades."

Brennan sat up, her back cracking a bit as she shifted once more on the car. Looking at him, she sighed. "You know what? Now, that's funny, Booth."

"Why?" he blinked at her.

"Because, I think you're maybe the first person that's ever called me a weak woman," she said. "In my _entire_ life," she added.

"If the shoe fits, Bones," he shrugged his muscular shoulders. "What else would you call a woman who does that to herself for the sake of a man?"

She shook her head as she flushed at his question in spite of her clear wish that she hadn't. "You...you're wrong," she told him. "I-I...you...none of this is about you. I told you that. This is just about me, not you. I-I...I didn't do any of this because of you."

Booth's eyebrows flew up and his forehead crinkled as he stared at her with a look of absolute disbelief. He blinked a couple of times in surprise, then shook his head and rolled his eyes before he finally spoke. "Oh, that's fucking rich," he laughed. "What absolute bullshit. All of this is about me...about me, and you, and how you feel about me."

"No," Brennan emphatically maintained. "I already said that. This...well, whatever just happened, it's not about you. This...this is just about _me_."

"Oh, really?" he quickly countered. "Then, if that's true...if this was just all about _you_, why did it come down to you bossing my ass around to all but service you like some glorified stud, huh, Bones? Because, that's what happened, right? You can't really deny that, you know. I mean, you just fucked me on the hood of your car. I didn't fuck you. _You _fucked _me_. And, it happened that way because you wanted it that way, yeah, sure...but I'm still here, aren't I? So you really can't say that this was just all about you and had nothing to do with me or the way I make you feel."

"No," she again said. "No, this...this was about me taking what was due to me."

A curious glint flashed in Booth's eyes. "I'll grant you that this is about you getting what you wanted," he said. "But, maybe―maybe you did this on purpose from the very start, huh?".

"What?" Brennan blurted, the confusion clear in her voice as she considered his question.

"Maybe," he said, letting each word fall off his tongue in a slow, measured way. "Maybe...right from that night at the Hoover, you did everything you did―not to protect me like you said in that sanctimonious little speech you gave―but rather you did it because you _did _want me. You've always wanted me...but on that night, it would've been on my terms if you'd said yes, but you couldn't handle that, could you? You wanted me on _your_ terms. And, your terms wouldn't work unless you had cut off my balls, put 'em in a jar of formaldehyde and stuck them up on a shelf in the lab, right? So that's why you said no until you could find the right time to admit that oops, you'd made a mistake and did want me...but only on _your_ terms."

"What?" she whispered again, as she stared at him in abject disbelief. "What are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying, Bones," he said as he took his hand and jabbed his index finger in her general direction to emphasize his words. "I think that you've always been a little afraid of me...more than a little afraid of me, really―and not just how I make you feel 'cause you can always chalk up the out-of-control feeling to that scientific mumbo jumbo limbic system hormones _yada yada yada_ bullshit that you're always using to make yourself feel better. But, you see...the funny thing's this. You've gotten used to having me around. And, who are we kidding? You've always wanted to fuck me...at least since the night when we first kissed, but probably since the first time I came trotting into your lecture hall at American and had the balls to interrupt one of your lectures when no one else would ever dare do that. So, yeah, you want me around, and you like the idea of fucking me...and how all of that makes you feel."

He cocked his head and arched his eyebrow, half-expecting her to interrupt him, but after a second or two of pause, he continued. "But, we both know that not being in control of it scares the shit out of you. So, the only way to get around that so that you can have your cake and eat it, too, is to take my nuts, cut 'em off, put them in a glass jar, and keep 'em around for a rainy day. That way, if you've beaten me down to being some wimpy-ass schmuck, you can keep me on a short leash without too much of a fight. You get exactly what you want―you can keep me around, we can fuck when you want to, you can get just enough of that high that you crave when you're with me―but, you don't have to worry about the fact that you took a good man and made him into a shadow of his former self because you were a selfish bitch who always does what she does and ruins good guys, right? I mean, that's what you do...what you've always done, isn't it? You take good men, take advantage of them, kick the shit out of them once they love you until nothing's left and they're nice and docile for you to play with when you can squeeze 'em in for a quick fuck on a rainy day...but, I screwed up that little plan of yours, huh?"

Booth punctuated his question with a derisive grunt. "Because I still had a little fight left in me, didn't I? You didn't do quite the number that you thought you had on me that night at the Hoover. And I still had enough fight in me to gave one last hurrah when I upset your squinty little apple-cart and came back from the sandbox with a girlfriend...and not just any girlfriend, but the picture perfect one of everything you hate―younger, leggy, a people person with a pop culture knowledge to rival my own...and the cherry on top of the friggin' sundae is that not only is she a blonde, but she looks just like every other woman except for Cam and Catherine who had me when you didn't."

He paused for a breath, looking quite pleased with himself at his little diatribe and leaned back onto the hood of the car. He didn't bother to look over at Brennan to gauge the effect of his words on her.

But, if he had, he would've noticed that she'd started to cry. The tears came down her face as she slowly shook her head.

"No," she whispered. "I'm...I-I...I'm better than all of them. I know it, you know it...everyone who knows us knows it. The rest of them...all of them...but, _especially _the goddamn blondes―none of them are the real thing, Booth. The rest of them are just these cheap imitations of me...they're pyrite."

"Pyrite?" he blinked at her with a furrowed brow. "What the fuck is that? Come on, Bones. This isn't time for Geology 101 with the Jeffersonian Squint Squad. If I wanted to play twenty questions with sciency stuff, I would've called up Hodgins and gone for trivia night with him and Sweets at the Founding Fathers instead of following you in here. But, I didn't, so cut the squinty shit, huh?"

"Pyrite is fool's gold, Booth," she clarified. A look of comprehension dawned on his face as she continued speaking. "And, just in case you're wondering, it's called fool's gold for a reason. From a distance, it looks like the real thing. It looks pretty and shiny and beautiful, and if you don't look at it too closely, it can seem like you've finally managed to beat the odds and find your fortune." She stopped, her voice choking a bit as she went on pouring her heart out to him. "But, it's not real. A fool...a fool's the only person who thinks that the real thing can be found that easily...can be found seven thousand miles away from home and in a war zone under a goddamn fig tree!" She stopped, the anger getting the better of her again as she struggled to deal with bouncing from one peak of the curve of the emotional sine wave she was riding to the next plateau. "Why?" she blinked at him. "Why did you do it? Why were you a fool? Why did you give in? Why did you...why did you leave me?"

"You said you didn't want me," he told her simply. "What else was I supposed to do?"

"Know that I was wrong!" she cried. "You were supposed to be different. You were supposed to know me...know me better than I know myself. But, you didn't...and you left. Why did you leave me?"

"Because," he said simply. "You left me first. Twice, in fact. Once that night in front of the Hoover and once at Dulles the day I met you at the airport just as you were about to leave for Maluku, Bones. Remember that? _You_ left _me_."

"And, you didn't try to stop me," she sobbed, the tears coming harder and faster as she spoke, her vision becoming blurred as she choked out, "Why didn't you try to stop me? Oh, God, Booth―all you had to do was say a single word. 'Stay.' If you'd just so much as said that single word, I never would've gone. That would've been enough. I would've stayed...because I loved you. Even then, I loved you...even if I wasn't ready to admit it yet or live with admitting it. I still loved you."

At her words, he sat up a bit further on the hood of her car, his back cracking as he reached for her. Brennan recoiled from his touch as much as she could without falling off of the car. He winced a bit, but didn't give up. Slowly, he reached out to her with a gentleness that was as sharp to her as if he'd slapped her. Carefully, he took an errant bit of her damp and tangled hair and tucked it behind her ear.

"Bones," he told her quietly. "Look at me."

"I...can't," she responded instantly, her choked sobs making her voice thick and raw with emotion.

"Look at me, please," he demanded again, his tone becoming more firm in its insistence. "Look at me."

He waited until her tear-filled eyes reluctantly met his questioning gaze.

"Bones," he said gently. "Come on..."

"What?" she could barely managed to utter.

"I...I didn't leave you," he said quietly. "I _never _did."

The choked sob that escaped from her throat sounded like a crazed laugh as her eyes burned at him and a few errant tears escaped her brimming eyes. "How can you possibly say that?" Brennan asked. "Now is _not _the time to be playing semantics, Booth."

"I'm not playing semantics, Bones," he insisted, the sincerity again clear in his voice. "I'm not...and you know I'm not."

"You _left _me," Brennan said, her voice cracking with each phrase she managed to utter "You _left _me...just like all the others. You let me push you away. You didn't stay. You didn't wait. You didn't...you just moved on―"

"No," he insisted. "Even though, after that night at the Hoover, I wanted to move on―God, I wanted to―but the simple fact of the matter is, I couldn't. I never could...and so I never did."

"Well, you sure as hell did a good impression of it by fucking Hannah when you were supposed to be doing mostly goddamn administrative things, remember?" Brennan said, some of the hurt she felt briefly flaring into anger again as she hastily brushed the hot tears that were sliding down the irritated skin of her cheeks. "Not that I put much stock in psychology, but was that perhaps a Freudian slip on your part, Booth? Instead of doing mostly administrative things, did you mean you were doing someone you met mostly because of administrative things?"

"Now, don't do that," he said, his eyes hardening a bit at her harsh words. "We've done that already...now..._now, _Bones, isn't the time to be angry and bitter."

"Well, I'm sorry," she said, her voice brittle with jaded disillusionment. "I'm sorry, but I can't help it! She has you, and I don't and―"

"Are you sure about that?" Booth asked, a strange look coming into his eyes as he stared at his partner.

"What?" Brennan blinked, clearly taken aback by Booth's words. "What did you say?"

"I asked...are you sure that she has me and you don't?" he pressed her. "Hmmmm?"

Brennan's eyes widened in disbelief as she stared at him. "How can you even ask me that?"

"Because," Booth said as he sighed lightly. "It's an important question, and it needed to be asked."

"Of course I don't have you!" Brennan almost yelled. "If I had you, none of this would've ever happened. Despite what I said before, I'm stealing you. You're not mine, and we both know it, and you never will be, and that's killing me. All of this happened...because I don't have you, Booth. You're right. I lied before. Of course this isn't just about me. It's about you and me and us, except there isn't an us. And, all of it―if you'd just waited...none of this...I wouldn't have turned into the woman who I barely know, cracking from the inside out because I don't know how to handle how you've made me feel."

"Trust, Bones―" Booth said as he reached out and cupped her jaw again trying to will her into a calmer state. "Shhuush. Be quiet for a minute, huh?" he breathed at her. She drew in several hard breaths, and bit her lip, but remained quiet as she waited for him to speak. He smiled at her when she quieted, nodding in approval as he said quietly, "Your problem is, Bones―or at least one of the major ones―is that you don't trust. And, I understand why...God, I do. But, this thing between us...it's never gonna work if you don't trust me."

"I wanted to," she retorted quickly. "I so desperately wanted to, but―"

"God, you're the most infuriatingly masochistic woman I think I've ever met," Booth sighed as he stroked the wet softness of her tear-stained cheek with the calloused pad of his thumb.

"What do you mean?" she asked, confusion clear as she tried to understand where his frustrated exasperation had come from, seemingly out of the blue.

"I mean, Bones," Booth said with a small shake of his head. "You really do torment yourself too much. You finally get what you've always wanted, and the night you do, your psyche tortures you. I mean, I always knew you were hard on yourself, but come on, Bones. This―" He stopped and gestured vaguely at the space between them before he continued. "This...well, this takes the cake, Bones." He stopped and gave her a bit of a lopsided grin as he added, "It sure does make me wonder if you're maybe more into the whole S&M thing than I thought, just FYI."

"I don't―"

Moving his hand slightly, he placed his thumb lightly on her lips to still her words.

"Shhhh." He smiled at her when she stopped talking, pleased at her silence. "Now," he said. "Here's the simple part. Yes or no answers'll do, Bones, okay? Just a yes or no. Understand?"

Slowly, she nodded.

"Do you love me?"

A nod.

"Do you understand that I love you?"

A shake of her head.

"Do you understand the reason you doubt that I love you is because you're afraid...afraid of trusting me?"

A pause. A moment passed. And, then, slowly, a nod came.

"Good," he breathed. "That's...that's good. It's a start, and we've got a long way to go, but that's good." He stopped, then asked, "Do you _want _to trust me?"

A nod.

"Do you want to be with me?"

Another nod.

"Do you understand that the way to make all that happen―all of it, Bones―is to just trust?" he asked, his dark brown eyes searching hers desperately for some type of comprehension or acknowledgment.

This time, Brennan was unable to help herself as she opened her mouth to speak a word that wasn't 'yes' or 'no.' However, Booth anticipated her and leaned in to give her a kiss.

"God help me," he muttered when he pulled away just as Brennan's stiff lips began to melt under his persistent efforts. "But, I love you. I love you, and I want to be with you, but that'll only work...us, Bones...we're not rational. We don't make any sense. And the only way we're gonna work―because us loving one another and being together doesn't make any sense―is if we fight that by you trusting me...and trusting me starts with trusting yourself."

"I-I..." Brennan sputtered.

"No," Booth said with a firm shake of his head. "There's no room for compromise on this one, Bones. There's not. You've got to trust...trust yourself. Trust yourself to know that you can be with me, and you won't change me. You won't ruin me. You won't hurt me. And all of that other bad stuff only happens when we're apart, not together―hasn't your genius squinty-goodness brain figured that out yet, huh? The bad stuff only happens when we're _apart_, not when we're _together_."

"But, I don't understand," Brennan said when Booth looked at her to see if she garnered the meaning of the very important things he was trying to tell her. "I don't―"

"I didn't leave you," he repeated his earlier statement. "I didn't let you push me away. I stayed. I went after you. I made us stay. I did what I had to do to make certain that we got a real shot at making this thing here between us work, Bones."

"But, Hannah―"

Shaking his head, he smiled enigmatically as he placed his index finger over her lips. "Shush," he said quietly. "We don't have any more time to waste on manifestations of your subconscious's insecurities, Bones."

"But―" she stared at him, and he shook his head firmly, rejecting her protest. The pure emotion she felt for him in her heart and mind and in the whole of her being made the tears begin to fall afresh. "But―" she tried half-heartedly.

"No," he said, cutting her off before he leaned in to kiss her again. "No, 'buts', Bones, okay? Now...now all there's time for is trust. Trust me...and trust yourself...and enjoy things." His eyes danced with some strange thing that Brennan didn't understand, and then, slowly, just as his lips reached for hers again, he smiled as he whispered, "God, I love you."

And, then, just as his smile disappeared into their kiss, so too did Booth...along the sights, sounds, colors, and sensations of the the parking garage.

"No!" Brennan yelled as she futilely reached for him. "Wait...no! " she cried. "Don't go! Don't leave me. I love you. Oh, God...don't leave me again. Please―please don't leave me again. Booth!"

And, suddenly, after a particularly disconcerting feeling of free-fall, the first thing that she became aware of was the fact that there were two conflicting sensations fighting for her attention.

The first issue was the fact that her face felt wet...she was crying. For some reason, she was still crying.

_Why am I crying_? The thought logically echoed in her groggy mind. _I-I...did something happen? Something sad? I-I...what in the hell is going on?_

The second issue that registered in her mind was that somehow her bed didn't seem nearly as cold as it normally did when she woke up with the covers tossed off of her. She couldn't reason why she was as warm as she was until another part of her brain suddenly informed her that she _wasn't alone_ in bed. She wasn't alone in bed, there was someone there with her, and that someone was holding her as he whispered soothing murmurs in her ear.

"Bones, baby," came the comforting whisper as she felt warm lips tug on her earlobe. "Wake up, Bones."

Her eyes slowly blinked open, crusty with sleepers as she tried to figure out what was happening.

'_Bones'...only Booth calls me 'Bones,' _a small voice whispered in her head. _And if that...that...if he's calling me 'Bones'...than I'm with Booth? Booth is in my bed? What...oh, shit? What's going on? _

"Wake up, Bones," he whispered again. "You're dreaming, baby. It's just a bad dream. You're okay. Everything's okay."

After his final whisper, she tilted her head and looked over to see a concerned pair of warm brown eyes staring at her.

"Hey," he whispered, shifting his face from her ear to her lips as he placed a soft kiss on them. As he drew away, he smiled and whispered, "Morning, beautiful."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** _So, there we have it, ladies and gentlemen. _

_As we reach this, what is the half-way point for this scenario, we wanted to take the opportunity to say a couple of things._

_ First, we fooled (most of) you...again! We seriously have to admit that we were both quite surprised that when we leaked it to the grapevine that this piece would be analogous to the deconstruction of Booth's character in VBI's Scenario #2 ("Cooking Off Ammo"), we thought that most people would expect us to pull the dream switcheroo. But, imagine our surprise when we realized most people thought the first exchange in the Jeffersonian Parking Substructure was real. It wasn't, and believe it or not, there are lots of little tidbits we dropped in to tip people off, but if you were fooled, well―don't feel bad. Most people thought it was real. But, it wasn't. It actually was an inner look at Brennan's subconscious with all her glorious vulnerabilities, insecurities, and fears there for everyone to see. So, was dream!Booth mean? Yes. Mean and nasty. Was it real!Booth's fault? No, not really. What was going on there (mostly, as you'll shortly see in where our piece fits into the canon's chronology) she did to herself...hence its bitterness and vitriol being much worse than anything the real world could probably spit at her._

_Want to see why she did that to herself and how the real B&B start to put things right in Brennan's world? Then stay tuned. It's coming up shortly. __In the meantime, unless the whole it was a dream thing pissed you off (like the whole _Dallas _dream-season did for _**dharmamonkey **_all those years ago), then please leave us a review._

_Go ahead and click on that sparkly blue button there and let us know how we did on this one. In the meantime, we'll be working on getting Part III ready for you folks._

_Oh, and by the way, we also wanted to let you know we're finishing work on our 8th VBI scenario, which will be called "He Said, She Said." Episode tag is one of _**dharmamonkey**_'s three favorite episodes, 'Harbingers in the Fountain.' It's our first 100% first person VBI, written in alternating points of view. It'll be very sexy, extremely funny, and, in sharp relief compared to "Pyrite," basically angst-free. And piss-in-your-pants funny, along the lines of our Xmas fic. Maybe funnier._

_So, keep us motivated to finish it. Leave a review ;-)_

_Thanks!_


	25. 25—Pyrite, Pt III

**A Very Bad Idea**

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><p><strong>By<strong>**:** dharmamonkey & Lesera128  
><strong>Rated<strong>**: **M  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>**: **Ummm, nope, we still don't own anything. We have, however, apparently become squatters in the sandbox that we crashed... so, umm... yeah. There we go.

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><p><strong>AN****: **_Where did we leave them? Oh, yes—in Brennan's bed, after she just woke up from a strange dream of the very __**GUH**__ variety. What the hell happened? Why are they in bed together? What's going on? (Arrgh!) And how is Brennan going to face Booth after waking up from a dream like __**that**__? This chapter begins to answer some of those questions._

**Unf Alert:**_ Right. This chapter, like, um, all the other ones before it (at least in this scenario), has some serious unfness going on. The kind you like and look forward to reading about. If you don't like that kind of thing, or shouldn't be reading it, don't. The authors hereby disclaim all liability, whether arising in contract, tort, warranty or strict liablity, for burst blood vessels in your eyes, unexplained facial flushing, inconvenient perspiration, or early labor for late-term pregnant readers. Enjoy!_

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><p><strong>VII. Pyrite, Part III<strong>

**Pertinent Details on Scenario #7****: **Set sometime between the episode 5x22- "The Beginning in the End" and 6x8- "The Doctor in the Photo."

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><p>As Booth leaned in once more towards her, Brennan couldn't help herself when she tensed as she felt his lips gently graze hers for a second time.. A sense of groggy disorientation made the world spin a bit as she tried to get her bearings―and for a few crucial seconds, Brennan wasn't certain if she felt the way she was feeling was because of the overwhelming disorientation she felt or the fact that Booth's lips were on hers once more.<p>

She felt slightly nauseous as she tried to piece together where she was, with whom, and why. The first two questions were easy enough to answer. She was in her apartment...in her bedroom...in her bed. She was in her bed, apparently having just awakened...to find her partner of more than five years staring back at her with a worried look in his eyes and his lips all over hers.

She was in bed...with _her partner_. She was in bed with _Booth_.

But, try as she might, she couldn't figure out an answer to the third question―the all important _why_. The only things she did know was that the more she thought about it, the more she felt the pounding in her head become more and more pronounced. She winced as she realized she'd woken up with one hell of a headache.

_What in the hell happened to me? _a voice echoed in her head..

For his part, Booth seemed to sense that something was off with Brennan as he drew back once more and stared at her. Tilting his head as he looked at her, he asked quietly, "You okay, Bones?"

As she considered his words, she instinctively opened her mouth to speak, but found herself at a loss for what to say or how to even to begin to answer such a simple question. However, as Booth looked at her expectantly, Brennan found herself compelled to offer something. At last, she said, "My head...it hurts."

"Awww," he said with a gentle, intimate sensitivity in his voice that Brennan didn't think she'd ever really heard before―and, if the fact that she was in bed with her partner kissing her hadn't panicked her, his demeanor in and of itself was more than enough to make her feel even more agitated than she'd been just a couple of minutes before when he woke her up. While all of this swirled in her head, Brennan could only blink at Booth in anticipation of his next action. At last, an easy smile broke on to his handsome face as he reached out and tucked an errant strand of hair behind one of her ears. "Who knew champagne could pack such a punch and knock us on our asses, huh?" he chuckled in sympathy. He paused and then asked, "You want me to get you something for it?"

Swallowing once, even as he spoke, Brennan suddenly realized how dry and disagreeable her mouth felt. As soon as he'd spoken the word 'champagne,' something clicked in her mind as the faint taste of the beverage seemed to linger in her mouth. Making a face, she slowly nodded at Booth. "Advil?" she asked. "In the medicine cabinet?"

"Sure," he said as he leaned over and placed another very gentle kiss on her forehead before he threw the sheet and duvet off of his legs. Kicking them over the side of the bed, he stood up and began to walk to the bathroom. However, he called over his shoulder as he padded towards the bathroom, "I'll get some water for us, too. That should help with the dehydration, right?"

"Ummm, yes," Brennan managed to croak, although only one thing drew her focus in that moment.

She suddenly found herself unable to pay attention to anything more than the fact that Booth was _naked _as he strode into her bathroom. She stared wide-eyed as his well-developed, muscular ass disappeared into the bathroom, finally allowing her to think for a minute. It was then that her realization that Booth was _naked _in _her bed _finally connected with one other small detail of which Brennan had been ignorant until that very moment―not only was Booth naked, but apparently, she was, too.

Brennan wasn't sure which fact was more bewildering―that seemingly, she'd somehow gone from a moment in time where she'd been full of hate and rage and resentment and self-loathing and abject loneliness in the Jeffersonian's parking substructure...to a point where she was in her own bedroom, laying in her own bed, naked with a significant headache, while her equally naked partner gazed back at her with loving, caring eyes.

_What in the hell happened to me? _she wondered. _I-I...I just...what...happened?_

As she heard Booth rummaging around in her bathroom, she tried to piece together what she knew to be factual and true. First, she was hungover for some reason, apparently caused by the fact that she and Booth had consumed significant amounts of champagne the previous night. Second, somehow they'd ended up in bed together and had sex. The latter point was confirmed by the fact that they were both still naked and her inner thigh muscles ached in a way that she hadn't felt since she'd overdone her overstretched her muscles when she attempted to hold one of the more advanced yoga poses that she'd been told in spite of the warning from her instructor not to push herself too far before she was ready. So, yes, they'd had sex at least once, but from the way her thigh and upper leg muscles ached, it was probably more than once. Third, and most curiously, instead of looking at her with the contempt and derision and anger that had fueled his terse words and blunt actions in the garage, Booth seemed to be full of warmth and concern for her.

_What the hell? _Brennan thought again, her confusion growing with each few seconds that passed. _What happened...and why can't I remember any of it?_

Brennan heard the tap in the bathroom turn on, and her eyes darted toward the bathroom door as she realized that she didn't have much time before Booth would return to the bedroom. Quickly, she scanned the room, trying to uncover some clue as to what had happened to her. Darting around the room, she felt another of flash of panic well up in her as her eyes bounced around and found nothing that offered any hints that might enable to her to figure out the answer to her all important third query. Then, at last, just she was about to give up, her eyes fell upon a spot on the far side of the room where she saw her large black suitcase and brown shoulder bag situated in the corner. On the ground, next to it, sat a vaguely familiar dark green duffel bag. She blinked several times as she stared at it, but as soon as Brennan saw the luggage, it was as if the elusive key to the puzzle that she'd been trying to solve had finally been provided to her and things clicked into place.

The haze that surrounded her mind―consisting of once vivid memories of a rainy night full of such negative emotions, and even more hurtful actions in the Jeffersonian's parking garage―faded away as she latched onto something more concrete in her mind's eye.

_Dulles_, she thought, as her brain raced to put the pieces of her discombobulated and foggy memories back together in some semblance of order that actually made sense to her. _We were all saying goodbye in the terminal, right by the ticket counter, and I was getting ready to leave with Ms. Wick for Maluku and then...Booth..._

_Dulles. _

_Maluku. _

_Afghanistan. _

_Booth. _

_A question._

_An agreement._

_A killer grin._

_And...then..._

_Champagne. _

_Lots and lots and lots of champagne._

Suddenly, she remembered what had happened:

_Her stomach felt as if it were tied into a thousand tiny knots that became tighter each time she said goodbye to one more of her friends. Hodgins, Cam, and Angela―in some ways, Brennan had thought that perhaps Angela would be the hardest to say goodbye to as she stood in front of the ticketing counter at Dulles International Airport._

That is, I can think that now since Booth isn't here, because―as bad as it is to say goodbye to Angela for a year, I think if I'd to say goodbye to himhere...well... _She narrowed her eyes at the thought. _Well, I think it might be so hard that I don't know if I could actually do it, _the morose thought echoed in her head as Angela wished her luck and gave her one final hug_. But, at least…at least I won't have to do that―at least, last night, we said our goodbyes in private. And, even if I didn't say what I really wished I could've said last night, at least―at least it's done. As bad as it was last night, as painful as it was last night, at least that's one more thing I don't have to do here while everyone's watching me. Because, if he were here right now, I don't think I could do this. Damn it. I mean, I think―I don't want to do this now, and he's not even here. But, I know I have to go. Going―it's the right thing to do. I'm sure of it. I…I-I…I just wish I didn't have to go.

_The hustle and bustle of the airport exacerbated the pressures and feelings of anxious dread that Brennan had been feeling since she'd begun packing her bags a week before_―_feelings that had only continued to grow worse with each passing day, with each hour that she came closer to getting on the flight that would take her thousands of miles away from her home, her family, her friends, her work…and away from Booth._

Why didn't he ask me to stay?_ she asked herself, the errant thought echoing in Brennan's head, just as it had since that night some weeks before when she'd first told him of the offer she'd gotten to head up the project in Indonesia._ If he'd just asked…even said just a single word. Something...anything…a sign of some sort. Anything to let me know that he didn't want me to go―that he'd wanted me to stay. But, he didn't. Why didn't he? I-I...I don't understand. Why couldn't he ask me to stay? Why didn't he stop me from leaving? Was I not...was what we might have not worth it? Did I hurt him that badly? Does he really think that what might've been between us is gone because of some stupid damn mistake I made out in front of the Hoover a couple of months ago? God, Booth…why didn't you stop me? All you had to do is stop me...even just try to stop me, and I wouldn't be getting on this plane. I wouldn't be going so far away from everything...from everyone. I wouldn't be leaving D.C. I swear it. I wouldn't be leaving you. I wouldn't be leaving us.

_As Brennan continued to mentally torture herself―much as she'd spent the last few weeks since the day she'd formally accepted the position of the head of the Maluku Islands Research Initiative Project―a scratchy and tinny, but decidedly female voice, with what sounded like an English accent, echoed over the airport's PA system. "Attention, please―first-class passengers on Flight 318 to Jakarta may now begin to board."_

_Realizing that she'd reached the point of no return, Brennan didn't need to hear Daisy Wick's annoying verbalization as a reminder of that painful fact, but she tried to remain civil when the intern spoke. "Dr. Brennan, we really have to go."_

_Turning to her, Brennan gave a curt nod as she cleared her throat and then replied, "Yes."_

_Bending down, she started to adjust the handle on her rolling suitcase when she suddenly could feel something so strongly that she knew she must be imagining it._

No, it can't be, _a small voice whispered in her ear._ You're imagining things. He can't be here...can he? That makes no sense. It's not logical, it's not rational. After what we said last night...he wouldn't come here...would he? That...that would be insane...unless he cares about me. Right?

_Slowly raising her head, Brennan looked up, searching briefly through the swarm of people who milled about, their luggage-laden bodies forming a vague and nebulous crowd in the terminal. It didn't take her long before her eyes sought and found the one thing that―if she'd believed in a supreme prime mover―she would've said was an answer to the unspoken prayers that she'd been muttering all morning...really, all night and morning, since Booth had left her apartment the previous evening._

_Dr. Camille Saroyan, however, summed up the situation best when she saw Brennan freeze and then followed the forensic anthropologist's eyes as they found and remained fixed on a very familiar form that continued to move with purposeful and deliberate steps closer and closer towards Brennan. "Oh, my God," Cam breathed in a low voice, causing everyone but Brennan to stop moving. Instead, Cam's words had the complete opposite effect on Brennan, and they seemed almost as if they'd released her to steadily walk towards him as if he was a magnet and she was a piece of steel drawn towards him_―_whether it was of her own volition to be pulled in towards the direction in which he stood or not._

_At last, when they'd each closed some of the distance that separated them and finally met each other halfway, Brennan looked up at him in wonderment. Booth gave her a sheepish smile as he finally broke the silence between them._

_"Sorry I'm late," he told her simply. "But I had to come say goodbye." _

_"But―" Brennan said, her voice suddenly taking on an incredibly vulnerable tone as a matching look washed over her face. "We said goodbye," Brennan told him softly. The vulnerable look quickly transitioned to one of confusion as she added, "I thought we agreed...last night. That would be it, and we wouldn't..." Her voice cracked as her words trailed off because a horrible thought had suddenly occurred to her. "Oh, God, Booth, please don't do this to me. Don't make me say goodbye twice, because I don't think I can do it."_

_He stared at her for a moment and then shook his head. "Okay, I lied," he said with as firm and comforting a smile as he could manage. "I'm not here to say goodbye..." Brennan stared at him, pain and confusion writ clearly on her face. "I'm not―I swear it," he told her. He stopped and then paused for a long moment before his brow furrowed and he continued, "Oh, God, Bones―I know what you said yesterday about how much it was hurting you to do this. Fact is, that's one of the reasons I'm here. I just couldn't get those words outta my head. It's been like this constant loop in my head for the last fourteen hours. And, the look you had on your face―you were in so much pain. God, it was killing me. So...I wouldn't―I couldn't do that to you. I promise...no, I swear. Knowing what that would do to you, I wouldn't come here to make you feel bad like that―"_

_"Then…what are you doing here?" she asked. "I thought you were on your way to Fort Bragg, Booth."_

_"I didn't go," he said with a nod and a gesture to the faded, acid-washed jeans and charcoal gray button-down shirt he wore. "I was…but I_..." _He shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced down at his sneakers, obviously nervous._

_"You didn't go AWOL, did you?" Brennan asked, concern evident on her face. "Please tell me that you didn't―"_

_"No," he said with another shake of his head as he quickly looked up at her. "I didn't go AWOL, Bones."_

_"But, then, I don't understand," Brennan replied, the look of confusion on her face growing with each thing he told her. "That doesn't make any sense. You reported for induction this morning. How can that be?"_

_Raising a hand to the back of his head, Booth gestured at his hair. "I was at the MEPS station this morning, right? I'd gotten my physical and drug test, and I was about to sign the final re-enlistment paperwork." He shrugged. "It was weird. I was standing in one of the offices that I know I've been in a thousand times before, even if I've only been there once―you know what I mean?―and the paperwork was sitting on the desk in front of me…and as I stared at the terms of my enlistment, I raised my hand to the back of my head to run my fingers through my hair, and―"_

_"You do that a lot, Booth," Brennan unintentionally interrupted. "You do it when you're thinking about something that you're perplexed or confused about," she explained._

_"I do?" he blinked in surprise._

_Nodding, Brennan added, "Yes…you've doing it for at least as long as I've known you―probably even longer than that, if I had to guess. It's almost like a tic."_

_"Oh," he said, clearly perplexed by her observation. "I-I, uhh, I guess... I didn't realize, that is I didn't know that." He stopped and then shook his head again as he tried to refocus his thoughts. "Anyway, I was feeling how long my hair was, and realizing how short it would be when I got it buzzed in a high and tight after induction, and it was at that moment that I suddenly knew it, Bones. I knew I couldn't do it. I couldn't sign the damn paperwork."_

_"But, why?" she asked instantly, too afraid to hope to hear the answer to her question, but at the same time knowing that she needed to hear his response almost as badly as she needed air in that moment to survive._

_Taking a step towards her, he reached out and gently cupped her jaw. Brennan felt the world spin and she heard a rushing in her ears as soon as his calloused thumb began to stroke the softness of her skin. "Do you really have to ask me that?" he whispered. "You know why."_

_"I-I...I―"_

_"Don't go, Bones," he said as he continued to stroke her cheek in a strong and steady rhythmic pattern. "We―both of us, we're about to make two of the biggest mistakes I think we could ever make…and so, I'm here. I didn't sign the re-enlistment paperwork. I walked out of that MEPS station, and I didn't even think twice about doing it, Bones. I didn't look back, because it was the right thing to do, and the reason why has nothing to do with Parker, or work, or hell…anything but one really damn good reason."_

_"What's that?" she dared to breathe._

_"You," he said quietly as he held her gaze intently and with a silent plea. "Just you. Don't you know how important you are to me? It's always been you, Bones―right from the very beginning. So, please don't…don't…don't run. Don't waste this chance that we've got. Don't go. Stay with me...don't go. God, please don't leave me. Just...don't go."_

_As she stared at his gaze, she saw a look full of longing, love, fearful hope, and a desperation that Brennan knew all too well staring back at her. And, in that moment, she knew that she could only give him one answer._

_Tilting her head, she smiled slightly as she felt her eyes water, and she nodded at him. "Okay," she responded after a moment that was heavy with a pregnant pause. "Okay."_

They'd left the airport without so much as a backward glance at the squint squad who'd watched them in shocked awe. Brennan ignored the Daisy Wick's high pitched squeals that they needed to get to their gate to make their flight. They ignored everything but one another as they exited the airport, hailed a cab, and finally acknowledged another person when the cabbie asked them where they wanted to go. Brennan looked to Booth with an easy smile as she nodded at him since the answer had been simplistic enough: they both wanted to go someplace to celebrate.

The coherent memories started to become a bit more discontinuous after that point in her recollection.

She knew they'd run by Booth's apartment so that he could change his clothes and retrieve what gear he'd need to spend some significant uninterrupted time with Brennan. They'd then gone to her apartment, dumped her luggage and his bag in her bedroom while Brennan quickly changed into something less anthropologically appropriate, but definitely more suitable towards spending a night on the town with the man she'd come to realize that she loved...even if she hadn't said it out loud. Another cab ride later, they'd found themselves at a slightly upscale bistro restaurant where no one knew them. When their server had asked them if they were celebrating something, given how happy and carefree they seemed as the hostess sat them, Brennan had nodded yes and ordered a bottle of Dom Perignon.

From that point on, the memories went from scattered to downright muddled... and that was if she was being generous in her assessment of the blurriness of her recollection. But, somehow in between the bottles of champagne_―_a second one had followed the first, and they'd taken a third one 'to go'_―_and another cab ride back to her apartment, at some point their clothes had started disappearing, hands had started roaming, and somehow they'd ended up in her bed.

As she listened to Booth fumbling around in her bathroom_―_no doubt looking for her bottle of Advil gelcaps_―_the sound of him opening and closing the medicine cabinet dislodged another chunk of memory, suddenly relatively clear in her recall, of what had happened the night before that had culminated with them naked and in her bed.

"_You got it?" she asked him as he held the third bottle of champagne in his hand and loosened the wire cage over the cork._

"_Yeah, Bones," he grinned. "I got it." He pulled off the wire cage and tossed it carelessly on the granite kitchen counter, then turned the bottle slightly as he held onto the cork until they heard a sharp _pop_ and a little bit of the chilled, frothy wine dribbled onto the tile floor. "Get the glasses," he laughed as he quickly brought the bottle upright. _

_Brennan retrieved the two flutes from the counter and tried to hold them steadily―not an easy feat since she was more than a bit tipsy, as Booth poured the champagne. "I'm glad we took the third bottle to go," she said as he handed her one of the glasses. _

"_Me, too," he said, his voice dropping a half-octave from his usual voice. He held the stem of the flute loosely in his hand and stared into her eyes, his mouth hanging open slightly as a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He tilted his head, and his gaze soaked in the features of her face, skimming over her cheekbones, her slender pink lips, her slightly square jaw, and her deep blue eyes. He'd spent the last five years seemingly drowning in the depths of those eyes, and he felt his heart race a little as he saw her pupils pulse as they stared back at him. "I'm glad we stayed, Bones," he said quietly, glancing into his flute as he raised it to his lips and then, hesitating, brought it down again. _

"_Me, too, Booth," she replied._

_He leaned back against the counter, bracing himself with his hand as he gently swirled the champagne in the glass. He looked once more into her eyes and said, "I'm glad we didn't..." His voice trailed off as his mind raced with a dozen thoughts. He stood there, silently sorting through them, then he closed his eyes for a moment, shrugged, then opened them again. "The moment I saw you, standing there in the terminal with your bags, I knew I couldn't do it. I just couldn't let you leave. I couldn't let you go," he said. "Not again. Not after..." He stood there for another moment, silent and still as he looked again into his glass. "I love you, Bones."_

_She blinked at him for a minute and then said, "I don't think I knew for certain until after I'd sent the formal acceptance to take over the project in Maluku, but...I-I...that's all I ever wanted from you, Booth. I just wanted you to...I didn't want you to let me go. I wanted you...I-I...I just wanted you."_

_Booth couldn't suppress his smile. "You wanted me to tell you not to go?" he asked. "Thank God I didn't outsmart myself, then, huh? When I was on my way to Dulles, and I was thinking the whole time, I kept wondering if I was making a mistake—not because I doubted that I wanted you to stay, but because..." He sighed and shook his head. "Because I kept thinking you were going to get all independent-woman, hear me roar on me, you know." He laughed softly. "I had this voice in the back of my head that told me you'd hate me for asking you to stay. But..." He ran his hand through his hair with a toothy grin. "I'm glad I didn't listen to that dumb voice." _

"_Me, too," she smiled at him. "I-I...I just...do you really?" Brennan suddenly asked, her voice a bit more timid as she spoke. "Do you really...love me?"_

"_Of course, Bones," he replied, a thread of incredulity in his voice. "I've...look, Bones—I've loved you for a long time. It's just...it's just that it took me a long time to figure out it was okay to tell you that I loved you." His eyebrows knit low for a moment, then flew up again. "It's okay, right, that I told you? I don't...we've spent long enough outsmarting ourselves, Bones. I don't wanna do that anymore." _

_She slowly nodded at him. "You know...right? You know...I may not have said it before because I don't think I necessarily knew what it was, but you know how I feel about you, right? You know...you know that I love you, don't you?"_

_Booth swallowed, the tips of his ears flushing at hearing her admission. "Well, ummm," he mumbled, an awkward smile breaking across his lips. "I'd always hoped, you know, that you felt...well...for me the way I felt about you. But..." He pressed his lips together firmly as he nodded his head, unable in that moment to say anything more perfect than the words he'd heard her say. "Hey," he said, suddenly brightening as he grinned at her. "I've got an idea. Have you ever done that thing where you cross arms when you drink the bubbly?" he asked._

_Brennan arched an eyebrow as she looked down at her own glass. "I have no idea what you're talking about Booth," she said, her words coming slowly and slightly slurred as they passed from her mouth. "What are you―?"_

"_I'll show you," he chuckled. "It's for good luck, and I don't know about you, Bones, but I think we need to stockpile all the luck we can get―whether you believe in it or not, humor me, huh? It's really easy. Just go like this..." He demonstrated by holding his glass out in front of him. She hesitated, then did likewise. He moved his arm forward, curling it around hers as he brought his flute closer to his lips, encouraging her to to the same with a slight jerk of his chin. "Yeah," he whispered as she hooked her arm around his and held her glass an inch or so in front of her mouth. "That's it. That's good. Uhhh, so...cheers, Bones," he said, his voice catching a bit in his throat as he inhaled a deep breath of her scent that made his already light head begin to spin again, and he knew as it happened that it had nothing to do with the alcohol that they'd drank. "To staying."_

"_To staying," she repeated with a smile as they both brought their glasses to their mouths and sipped the dry champagne. The tiny bubbles that hissed and popped on the surface of the straw-colored wine tickled her nose and made her laugh. As she laughed, Booth's eyes widened and he, too, began to laugh. No sooner had the two of them collapsed into bubbly-induced giggles when his glass tipped just a bit too far, spilling half of the contents down the front of Brennan's royal purple silk button-down blouse._

"_Oh, fuck," he coughed. "I'm sorry, Bones. Really...I-I―just...shit."_

_For her part, Brennan wasn't fazed in the least as she blinked at the cold liquid that tickled her skin as it dripped down the cleft in between her breasts. Instead, she merely leaned back against the counter as she looked down and saw that a small amount of Dom Perignon had pooled in her cleavage. Setting her glass on the counter, she gave him a curious look before she spoke again. " S'okay, Booth," she muttered quickly as she reached forward to grab a handful of his shirt and pulled him towards her. He barely had enough time to set his own glass hastily back on the counter without breaking the stem as he immediately felt her press tightly against him. "As long as you take responsibility for your mess and clean it up."_

"_Mmmmm," he murmured as he found himself suddenly flush up against her body. "I think I can handle that," he whispered as he bent his head over and nuzzled his face into her chest. She gasped as she felt his tongue dart out and flick against her skin as he lapped up the ounce of bubbly from her chest. "Mmmmm..."_

_Brennan sucked in a breath as his tongue continued to explore her chest, tracing the silky skin along the edge where her soft flesh spilled over the top of her bra. She threaded her fingers through his spiky hair as he murmured unintelligible syllables against her skin, the vibration of which made her laugh again. _

"_Booth," she whispered, cupping her hands against his head as she lifted his face to hers. For a fleeting moment, he resisted her, insistently kissing her decolletage, then a faint rumble sounded from deep in his chest as he raised his face to hers._

"_Bones," he said, his lips brushing against hers for a moment before their mouths crashed together in a fervent kiss. She opened her lips to his kiss instantly, and soon she was lost in the sensation of his embrace, his mouth pressing against hers, his tongue sliding against hers as their mouths grasped hungrily for one another. "God, I want you," he moaned as their mouths pulled apart, his hands moving up to the place that had garnered so much of his mouth's attentions just moments earlier._

"_I want you, too," Brennan said huskily as she leaned her head to the side, exposing the curve of her neck to him as he began to unbutton her blouse. "God, I want you, Booth," she said, a demanding edge to her voice as her hands traveled down the long plane of his muscular back. "And, I'm so tired of living with that want. Please...do something about it. Do something. Do it...please do something to me. Please." _

_He needed no further invitation as his fingers made fast work of her blouse. No sooner had she shrugged out of her blouse then his hands curled around her hips as he kissed her again. For a moment, she was sure the room was spinning around her, which didn't surprise her in the least, because the way he tasted, and the way his tongue tangled with hers as he kissed her, she nearly felt her legs give out on her―but when she felt her back bump against the door to her pantry, and the _clack _sound of the latch closing behind her as he leaned into her with his hips. _

"_Mmmnnnggth," she murmured as she reached for his belt buckle, quickly unfastening it and thumbing open the top button of his jeans in a way that more than slightly impressed her given how fumbly she'd been certain the alcohol would've made her actions. She opened her mouth to say something, but found herself silenced by another one of his clutching, insistent kisses as he reached around and unzipped her skirt, which fell to the floor unceremoniously. She stepped out of her skirt, toeing out of her pumps as she turned her head from her kiss, smiling as she heard him grunt in frustration. She unzipped his fly, yanking his shirt out of his pants as she slid her hands between his waistband and the soft, warm skin of his hips. _

"_You..." she sighed. "Oh, God...now...right now, you―" Between the numerous glasses of fine, strong champagne that were coursing through her veins, and the dizzying want that was swirling in her mind, she was no longer capable or interested in articulating her thoughts. She hooked her thumbs over the waistband of his jeans and pushed his pants and boxers down his hips as his hands tugged at her panties._

"_God, Bones," he groaned as he leaned against the pantry door with one hand as he gently batted her hand away and shoved his pants down his thighs with the other. Brennan quickly shimmied out of her lilac-colored string bikini as she looked down at his arousal, her eyes glittering with want and interest._

_Booth's eyes narrowed as he considered taking off his shirt, shoes, and pants, but in his blackened eyes Brennan saw that his desire was as intense and unstoppable as her own in that moment, and as soon as his pants had been shoved below his knees, he leaned into her again. She reached for him, her slender fingers wrapping around his rigid, swollen length as he leaned his head back and sucked in a hard breath, squeezing his eyes shut as she pumped him in her hand a couple of times before releasing him. _

_A low grunt sounded from him as he looked into her eyes, hooking his arm under her thigh and pulling it up as bent his knees slightly and entered her. He hadn't bothered to touch her to see if she was ready for him. It was as if, between the way her pale eyes had darkened and the ragged irregularity of her breathing, he already knew she was ready for him. He slid into her easily, withdrawing slightly before pressing all the way into her and holding himself there as he gazed deep into her eyes._

"_Boooooooth," she moaned as her mouth fell open at the mind-numbing sensation of feeling him inside of her at long last. She palmed his ass as he began to thrust up and into her, again and again, filling her up each time he moved as he looked into her eyes._

"_Bones," he whispered as he drew himself up and into her. "Bones...Bones...Bones..."_

_With each stroke, Brennan found herself spinning faster and faster towards oblivion. So powerful and all-encompassing was the cacophony of sensations―the way he filled her up with each stroke, so hard and hot and thick, each time; the way he smelled, the musky swirl of his sweat and the old-fashioned sandalwood aftershave he used; the way he murmured into her ear as his lips brushed against the side of her neck and the tiny hairs in her ear stood straight up on end; the way his salty sweat tasted when she kissed the side of his neck―that she didn't even realize the way her back was being rubbed up against the coarse grain of the pantry's heavy wooden door. Brennan could feel the sweat pooling in the crook of his arm, as it chafed slightly against the delicate skin on the inside of her thigh. She felt the muscles of his ass working as he rolled his hips back and forth to drive his strokes, and somehow, amid it all, the awareness of his strength and power finally tipped her over the edge as she felt herself begin to free-fall. _

"_Ohhhh..." she moaned. "Ohhhhhh...ohhhh...ohhhhh..."_

_Booth raised his head and gazed deep into her eyes. She saw his cheek twitch and his pupils dilate as his mouth fell open in a long, heavy sigh. Brennan felt his muscles tense under her fingertips as her own muscles clenched around him. She heard herself cry out, her voice peaking as she called out his name at the very moment she broke apart, and a moment later she felt him drive into her one last time, his low voice murmuring her name as his release pulsed into her._

"_Bones...Bones...Bones..."_

_Brennan waited for a minute, glad he was supporting her weight, because she doubted that she'd be strong enough to stay upright if she was expected to stand on her own two feet in that moment. At last, her head lulled to the side until it was resting on the curve of his shoulder, his skin warm and reassuring and nothing but comforting to her. She opened her mouth, and her lips moved, but no sound came out the first time she attempted to speak. Her brow furrowed as she realized her throat had become a bit hoarse at some point―whether from the way they'd consumed the champagne, the way she'd apparently moaned and groaned and screamed his name as they'd had sex, or some combination of the two. Taking a deep breath, which she slowly exhaled against the crook of his neck in a warm puff of air, she tried again to speak. This time, she had a better result than her first attempt, but her voice was still raw and came out sounding much more throaty than normal as she spoke in what was no more than a whisper―more from necessity's sake than her attempt to be alluring._

"_All I wanted was this," she told him quietly. "Just you...just this...just us."_

_Booth unhooked his arm and let Brennan finally put both feet back on the ground after what seemed like an eternity. His eyes scanned her face, and he smiled, then leaned in to kiss her._

"_Bedroom," he whispered, reaching for her hand. She looked down at his hand as his fingers closed around her palm, then she nodded. "It's not like we need anymore champagne, huh?" he added with a laugh._

"Here," Booth said, suddenly drawing Brennan's attention away from the memory as the smile in her memory was shortly replaced with the real thing as he walked in with a glass of water in one hand and four caplets in the palm of his other hand. Brennan blinked away the memory of the night before as she looked at him standing naked before her. He raised his eyebrows, creasing his forehead as he held out his hand in offer to her. She accepted two of the caplets and reached for the glass of water, throwing the pills back and washing them down with a couple of healthy gulps of water.

"Thanks," she said softly as she handed him the glass so he could take his own pills.

As he watched her pop the Advil he'd given her, Booth watched in clear concern as he studied her face, looking for some hint of what was going through her mind. After a minute, during which he noticed she still clasped the flat sheet to her chest, she reached out and handed him the empty glass that had contained the water he'd brought her.

"Better?" he asked, his voice gentle and full of worry as he took the glass and set it down on her nightstand.

"Yes," Brennan said slowly. "I would nod, but until the pain relievers take effect, or the water I just drank starts to lessen my hangover as I become re-hydrated, I think it a pertinent course of action to remain as still as possible."

Booth couldn't help but smile as he stared at her.

"Can I get you anything else?" he asked. "What can I do to make you feel better?"

She considered his words and then said, "Just...sit with me for a few minutes?"

"Sure," he said, scooting a bit closer to her on the bed as soon as the words were out of her mouth. "That's easy, you know, 'cause I'm not going anywhere, Bones." He noticed as he spoke that her eyes dart to look over at him, and her body tensed a bit. Swallowing back a frown, he asked quietly, "You okay?"

"I think―I think I will be," she eventually managed to answer. She stopped and then made a face as she added, "I don't think I realized how disgusting the aftertaste of champagne can be until it's been combined with morning breath and allowed to ferment for several hours while one's hangover grows."

Unable to help himself, a small chuckle rumbled in Booth's throat. "Okay, that's pretty gross, Bones."

"I concur," she said. "But, nonetheless, it's a true and accurate statement."

"So," he said, narrowing his eyes playfully in mock suspicion. "You do know that this means before I kiss you again I'm gonna make you brush your teeth? I think that..."

As Booth's glance fell upon his partner, he saw that her brow furrowed and her body tensed again. It all happened in less than the span of a couple of seconds, but it was enough for him to have seen it. Again, he felt the urge to frown, and this time he wasn't able to keep himself from doing it.

Reaching for her hand, he asked quietly, "What is it, Bones?"

She looked down at where he'd reached for her hand and started to gently rub comforting circles on the back of it with his thumb. The intimacy of the simple gesture tugged at her metaphoric heart strings, particularly as she recalled the painful words of truth that he'd so painfully made her listen to in what she was now coming to realize had just been a dream...some warped manifestation of almost every insecurity her subconscious mind had ever had.

"_But when it came to actually making a move, making a fucking move and doing something other than letting a lifetime's worth of fucking excuses rattle around the inside of your damn skull or diddling yourself to a mindless, dripping oblivion, you were all talk and no game. And that's what kills you the most, huh? You've been burning for me for fucking years. Control me? You can't control me. You can't even control your fucking self. You can't control shit, Bones. Control? What a fucking joke."_

"_I mean, that's what you do...what you've always done, isn't it? You take good men, take advantage of them, kick the shit out of them once they love you until nothing's left and they're nice and docile for you to play with when you can squeeze 'em in for a quick fuck on a rainy day."_

_"You're problem is, you don't trust. And, I understand why...God, I do. But, this thing between us...it's never gonna work if you don't trust me."_

The last words, perhaps the ones that affected her the most, were the ones that caused her to feel the tell-tale pinpricks of tears begin to blur her field of vision at the corners of each eye.

"Damn it," she sniffled, moving her free hand to her face as she quickly swiped at her eyes. "I-I...I didn't mean to start crying again."

"Bones―"

"I hate crying," she said, although even as she spoke, her sniffling increased. "I hate it. I just fucking hate it. I hate everything about it. I hate how it makes you feel emotionally, because there's no way anyone can ever cry and not feel emotionally overwhelmed and completely drained once it's over. And, I hate how the physical sensations manifest. I hate how the eyes get watery and itchy and you can't see straight. And, I hate how you start to produce too much mucus so you can't take a deep breath through your nose because your sinuses are clogged. I hate how the skin of your face gets raw and chapped from the tears running down your face―I just hate it all. _I hate it!"_

She spoke the last words with such emphasis that Booth longed to reach out and pull her into his arms, but something stilled him. Instead, he reluctantly contented himself with still holding her hand. A part of him was quite pleased that she hadn't pulled away.

"Bones," he tried again, his voice calm and gentle as he spoke. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"I-I..."

"You can tell me," he soothed her. His own eyes began to glisten with feeling as he watched her struggle to contain her tears, and he closed his fingers around her hand, cocking his head to the side and trying to meet her glance as she averted her gaze. Booth rolled his lips together and squeezed her hand, wanting nothing more in that moment than to wash away the pain he felt rolling off of her in waves. "Whatever it is...you can tell me."

She met his gaze for a long minute and then the earlier words in her dream reasserted themselves with a vengeance as he stared at her and waited for a response.

"_Now...now all there's time for is trust. Trust me...and trust yourself." _

"I know that," she eventually managed to tell him, her decision made. "I know that, Booth. I do. I swear I do. I-I trust you―I trust us."

"Then, tell me," he coaxed her. "Tell me what it is." He watched as her brow furrowed, and she battled with her thoughts. After a minute, he gently prodded her, "What is it, Bones? Was it...was it your dream?"

Slowly, Brennan lifted her shining gaze to meet his, not certain how he could know, but thankful and unsurprised that he did. Although she slowly nodded her head to confirm his suspicions, she remained quiet unable to to find the words to tell him. Eventually, Booth's heart cracked, and he reached out and gently ran his fingers through her disheveled hair in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.

"Ohh, Bones, baby," he whispered. "It's okay. You know that, right? It's okay. You're here, I'm here, and everything's going to be okay because it was just a bad dream." She blinked at him, wanting to believe him, but clearly very nervous to do so. Wanting to do nothing in that moment but make her feel better, Booth asked softly, "What...Bones...what was it? The dreams...was it one of the old ones? The ones...was it one of the ones about the Gravedigger?"

Again, Brennan could only mutely shake her head.

"Your parents?" he tried a second time, somewhat relieved that the specter of Heather Taffet wasn't choosing to rear its ugly head on what should be such a happy morning. He then racked his brain again for what might have been the fear that had left Brennan in tears even as she slept safely and contented in his arms. "Was it about your mom and dad and Russ leaving you?"

For a third time, Brennan shook her head.

Exhaling slowly, Booth looked at her and said, "I-I...you gotta help me out a bit here, Bones. I'm sorta at a loss. You gotta give me something, huh? I'll do whatever I need to do to make it better, but I can't do that if you don't tell me what it was."

At last, Brennan finally found her voice. It was no more than a whisper, but at last she spoke as she gave Booth the answer he needed.

"It was _you_, Booth," she breathed. "My dream...my nightmare? It was all about _you_."

He stared at her for a moment, not certain what to say. As he looked into her eyes, he saw a pain there that he desperately eased to ache. He wanted to make it all go away. He wanted to protect her. He wanted to make her feel safe. He wanted to make her happy. And he felt a stab of frustration when he realized that he couldn't do that if he didn't know what was making her feel so badly.

Finally, he took a breath, and asked in as gentle a tone as he could manage, "Tell me."

Brennan swallowed once, flushed with embarrassment as she thought about the the myriad of explicit images and even more lewd words that had been shared between the pair within her dream. She looked away and was silent for a moment. Then, slowly she opened her mouth and began to speak, her voice soft and slow as she opened up to him.

"It was raining," she began slowly. "It was at night, and it was raining, and there was this case. It was work, but it was a case that I'd had to work mostly by myself. I can't...I-I don't remember a lot of the details, but I remember in the dream, the victim, she was a lot like me. She was a single, successful, intelligent woman. But, she wasn't someone that was easy to get close to because she tried to keep herself isolated. It was her way from getting hurt. And, she died before she could find someone who wanted to be with her, wanted to love her, and she felt she was strong enough to be with him, to let him love her without her feeling like she was losing herself."

Booth was quiet, his warm skin paling at hearing her words. He blinked, then narrowed his eyes as his mouth fell open slightly. His brown eyes held her gaze before he licked his lips and shook his head with a vague sadness and said, "Do you think...do you think that if you love me and let me love you that you'll lose yourself, Bones?" He stroked his thumb over the side of her hand. "Because you won't. You...you know that, right?"

Realizing as soon as she'd spoken that he'd possibly misconstrued her words, she reached out and touched the back of her hand to his cheek. "Yes, of course," she tried to assure him. "Of course I know that. It's just that...well, in the dream...I-I...I'm not sure how to explain this, but the doctor in the dream. She wasn't the important part...I mean, not really. But, the important part was that when I was investigating her death, I'd had to go to this really bad part of town, and you weren't with me. I had to go by myself and...well, things are a bit fuzzy, but I think I almost got hit by a car, and I probably would've died... if you hadn't pulled me out of the way at the last minute."

"Okay, wait," Booth said, his brow furrowing as he tried to comprehend her words. "I'm...well, maybe I'm a bit slow on the uptake because my head's still sorta pounding like some drumline to the bass beat of an Eminem song, but I, uhhh, I'm...I don't know what you're saying, Bones."

Licking her lips, Brennan sighed and tried to figure out a way to put her thoughts in order. Taking another breath, she said, "In my dream...it. It's difficult to describe, Booth. And, I'm trying—I swear I am. But, it's like it was this really long movie...and I think I've already forgotten some of the really important parts. I do remember, though, that we...we were having some problems working together. We were still partners, but...but things had changed between us. They weren't...things—they weren't like they should be between us."

"Why?" Booth asked. Brennan hesitated, and Booth could tell she was on the edge of telling him something that she didn't want to tell him, and so he knew it was even more important in that moment that he press her. "Come on, Bones...I can't—if you don't tell me what's wrong, and I don't understand it, then there's no way I can make it better."

"It's a little hazy," Brennan said with her voice small. "Like I said, I've already started to forget parts of it...but, in the dream...it was in the future. You'd gone to Afghanistan...I'd gone to Maluku, and when we came back...you'd done it." Her voice trailed off with the last word, catching in her throat as she spoke.

"Did what?" Booth asked, his voice heavy with grim anticipation. _Oh God, _he thought. _What did I do to you, Bones? _He felt a wave of nausea pass through him as he waited for her to say the words he knew were hanging there, waiting to be said. A hard lump formed in his throat as he heard the sadness in her voice.

"Moved on," she said, her voice low as she answered his question. "You did what you said you'd do that night at the Hoover—y-you...y-you d-didn't love me anymore and you found someone else. You found someone else and moved on and left me, Booth. You left me, and I'd lost you, and it was such a mess. Everything was so screwed up, I can't even accurately describe it. But, the one thing I do know is that _I _was such a mess—"

"Bones," Booth said softly, his gut clenching at hearing the pain on the ragged edges of her voice. "I-I...Bones, I...what I said that night..." He swallowed and shook his head. "The fact is, Bones, I don't think I could ever really move on, ya know, from you. You know that, right?"

"I know, rationally, you're telling me that, but apparently my subconscious doesn't have as much trust in it because...in my dream, you had. You'd moved on, and replaced me...and it was so awful. Months went by, and we tried to make things work. But, you'd moved in with this other woman, and it was like I didn't even know who you were anymore, and when I lost my sense of who you were, I started to lose my sense of self."

"I'm sorry, Bones," he said, his head and heart both suddenly heavy at the thought of the pain that his dream-self had caused her, and even more so at the thought, which he physically shook off with a roll of his shoulder, that perhaps, had they not come to their senses soon enough, one or both of them might have done just that—moved on. _No...it would never...no, I couldn't have ever...No._ "I mean, that...you know, that..." His stammering trailed off as he read the anguish in her eyes.

"I know," she said quickly. "I know it's not your fault. And, I'm not blaming you. I promise—that's not why I'm telling you this. I don't blame you...I'm not. It's just...that's what'd had happened before...well—" her voice again trailed off. "Believe it or not, this isn't why I was crying."

Booth stared at her for a moment and then blinked as he wondered what type of cinematic masterpieces Brennan's brain could put together as she slept. _My dreams, _he thought with a faint, fleeting smile, _are like _Die Hard_, _Pulp Fiction_, or, maybe, _Legends of the Fall_. I'm a simple guy. Even in my dreams, I'm not really complicated. But Bones? Hell, hers are probably crazy complicated, like her. Complex period pieces with soaring soundtracks, four or five expansive, intertwining plots. Like _Braveheart _or_ Gone with the Wind _or _The French Connection_, except without the all the action sequences and explosions. Action sequences... _He blinked away a thought of a fantasy he'd once about taking her in an ammo room and fucking her senseless against a stack of wooden ammunition crates. _She'd probably never let me get near her again if I ever told her about that one_.

"Okay," Booth nodded simply. "I believe that," he told her. "So...what's next then?"

"Well, all of that is sort of what you need to understand preceded what happened when I was...err, when I was dreaming my dream," Brennan told him, knowing she wasn't being very clear or specific.

"Oh, Bones." He shook his head. _Fuck, _he thought. _The only thing that could possibly be worse than trying to make up for fucking something up and making her feel shitty is trying to make up for something I did to her in a dream. Awwwww, hell. I have a feeling I'm really, really screwed here. Like seriously screwed. _He bit the inside of his lip and tried to recenter his focus as he pushed away the anxious nervousness he was now suddenly feeling. "So, in your dream, I was an asshole to you? What happened? Tell me."

"You brought me back to the Jeffersonian," she said vaguely, looking away from him. "We were riding back in the SUV and...then I don't know why I did it."

Booth's eyes narrowed. _It? Something happened between us, didn't it? Something heavy. I can hear it in her voice. _ "What do you mean 'it,' Bones. What did you do?"

"I-I...I'd finally told you how I really felt," she murmured, feeling the embarrassment that she'd felt while sitting cold and wet and so alone in the seat next to him wash all over her once again. "I'd told you what I should've told you that night when you asked me to give us a chance, and that I'd run away from how I felt about you."

Booth felt a trapdoor suddenly open up in his gut, and all the feelings he'd had two nights earlier, sitting in living room saying their goodbyes, and the swirl of feelings—guilt, regret, and second-guessed hope—weighed heavily on him as he felt the blood drain from his face. After a moment, the full gravity of her words began to percolate through the layers of his hungover mind—"_how I felt about you"_—and he felt some of the darkness in his gut displaced by a flush of warmth.

"Bones," he said softly, reaching over placing his hand on her knee. "I shouldn't have pushed you that night. I made a mistake. I should've been more patient with you. That night—well, I fucked up. I did. I made a huge mistake. I let Sweets manipulate me in that shrinky way that he's so good at, and I...I made a mistake...not that I didn't want us to try to make something, but that I did it the way I did it, and when I said it. It was..." He took a deep breath and squeezed her knee gently. He reached up and stroked his forefingers over her sleep-mussed hair, tucking a strand behind her ear with a gentle smile. "I'm sorry, Bones," he whispered. "You know I never wanted to hurt you. You've gotta know that by now, right? God, I'd rather do anything else in the world than hurt you because of how I feel about you. I love you."

Booth could see her eyes blinking and her lips moving, and he knew she was thinking, grinding away at something the way he'd seen her do a thousand times before. _She's gotta talk about it, _he told himself. _Otherwise, she's gonna keep spinning and chewing herself up. _He looked down into his lap with a shrug, feeling like he needed to bring the conversation back onto the road from where it'd veered off onto the sloped shoulder, precariously close to a ditch, he tried another approach. "What did I say to you in the car, Bones?" he asked.

She again flushed at his question. _I don't want to do this again, _a voice echoed in her head. _I really don't. But, I know I have to...I have to trust him...trust us...and that starts by telling him. By being open...and honest. So, I have to_—_I have to tell him._

After another moment, she sighed and said quietly, "I-I...suffice to say, you made it clear that while you were sympathetic to my realization, you'd moved on and...and that it didn't matter. I'd made my choice, so to speak...and so that was that."

Sensing that there was a lot more to this story than what she was telling him, he gently pressed her again. "Okay. Fine. But, I know there's more to it than that...so what happened then? What happened next, Bones?"

She stared at him for another intense moment before she finally found the voice to answer his question. "I had to get away from you," she breathed, letting out a deep exhale of breath that she didn't even know that she'd been holding deep down in her chest. "I-I...I was so embarrassed...so...I can't even describe it. I-I...just had to get away from you. I didn't want to see you or be near you. I just wanted to be away. But...I couldn't get away from you. You followed me into the Jeffersonian, and I tried to stay one step ahead of you, but you followed me into the Jeffersonian's employee parking substructure. And, you...you caught up with me before I could get into my car and leave."

"Oh," Booth whispered, his heart sinking at the concept that she would want to get away from him, especially after she'd come so close to doing just that.

_Damn, baby, _he thought. _I wouldn't let you go, would I? I didn't let you go yesterday. And, God help me, I'll never let you go so long as there's a breath in my body. I can't lose you. I can't let you go. Not again. Not after we salvaged what we have—what we are, you and me. No. You've gotta know that. Right?_

"In the dream, what happened next? That is...why did I follow you?"

"I don't know the answer to that," Brennan said truthfully. "I-I...I don't know. I just know that you did, and you wouldn't go away, and the longer you stayed and kept me from leaving the less embarrassed I felt and the more...angry I got."

"You asked me to leave, but I refused?" he asked, struggling to understand. "But why—what did you say to me?"

Brennan flushed at the memory. She sighed, looking away from him, before she said, "I don't remember everything, but we'd started arguing." She stopped and then added, "I think it may be the worst fight we've ever had. It was so raw...and I was hurting so much...and the longer you stayed there, the more I wanted to make you feel like I felt. I wanted to make you hurt." She paused again and then shook her head, "I don't even know why I'm telling you this. It was just a stupid dream, Booth...a horrible, painful, stupid dream."

Booth's eyes widened at the admission. "Bones," he whispered. "You woke up crying. This dream, it affected you enough that you were crying in your sleep. If it...look, if you've had a dream that was that powerful, and made you feel that raw, I want to understand." He paused as he struggled to find the words to help her...to make things better for her. "I want to understand so I can help _you _understand that what was in that dream—that's not how things are between us. That's not who we are." He sighed. "That probably doesn't make any sense, does it?"

"No, it does...but, Booth. It's just so embarrassing," she said, her nostrils flaring a bit as she considered his words. "It's...I know you want to understand, but it frustrates me so much that I was so weak to have something like this happen...especially after last night." She stopped and then looked up at him for the first time in some minutes as she gave him a small smile. "If I was dreaming of you after last night, it should've been something more romantic and fulfilling given what happened to us before I went to sleep."

"I don't think it always works like that, Bones," he said with a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You know—I mean, I know you don't put a lot of stock in psychology, but dreams are like the mind's rinse cycle. It's the way the brain flushes out all the bad stuff, or the stuff we have trouble figuring out in our conscious minds, so dreams don't always follow a logical path."

"You can say that again," she muttered under her breath as she looked away again.

"Which part?" he said with a faint smile.

"Ummm..." she sighed a bit abashed. "The last part. It was...it wasn't, my dream that is, it wasn't logical at all."

Booth shrugged. "You're right, but...what else happened in your dream? What happened after I followed you back to the Jeffersonian garage and you got pissed at me?"

The image of Brennan pressing herself against Booth before she'd stripped him naked, tossed him on top of her Mercedes, and crawled on top of him in nothing but her bra flashed in her mind.

"Uhhh—"

Booth observed the way her cheeks flushed. "Come on, Bones," he said in a low voice, climbing all the way onto the bed and taking his place next to her. "You can tell me. It was just a dream—none of it's real anyway, right?"

She looked away from him again as she said vaguely, "Well, it certainly felt real...and—"

"What felt real, Bones?" Booth asked her, seizing on her comment. "Come on, tell me. It can't be _that _bad, right? So just tell me. What happened after you got mad at me? Did you give me one of your epic squint smackdowns?" he smiled at her again in encouragement. "Did ya?"

"You have no idea," she said suddenly told him. "I-I...okay," she stopped and said. "I'll tell you, but do you...err, do you promise not to...well, not to hold it against me?"

Booth quirked an eyebrow. _She's blushing, _he noted. _The woman who is, by her own proud admission, shameless. We've shared almost everything between us—successes, failures, triumphs, tragedies, and now, after last night_—_everything else that was left. What could it be that she's so hesitant about? _he wondered. _That's making her blush. Bones blushing is like a solar eclipse during leap year. Very rare, and worth paying attention to, especially if it's got her this worked up. She knows I won't judge her, right? After all the things I've done? Hell, I'd be the last person who should judge her_.

"I promise," he said. "But," he added with a faint grin, "I can't deny that you've piqued my interest with a precondition like that."

"There...it was sort of...well, okay, I told you it was raining, right?" she asked him, trying to figure out a way to begin to answer his question.

"Yeah," he said with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "It was raining, sure."

"I was drenched," Brennan said. "And so I wanted to get warm. I was tired of being cold...I was so cold, and I was so tired of it. And, so...you weren't quite as soaked as I was because you were wearing your khaki trenchcoat, and so I demanded it. I made you give it to me."

"Okay," he said with a chuckle. "So now we know it's a dream, right? Because you never take me up on the offer of borrowing my jacket, even when you're cold."

She avoided rolling her eyes at him, and then said, "Not funny."

"Well, it was a little funny," he said with a sheepish grin. "But, anyway, so I gave you my coat. Then what happened?"

"I...err...sortofcameontoyou," she muttered, quickly looking away from him as the words rolled off her tongue in a tumble.

"What?" he coughed. _Wait a minute—what did she just say? _He scrunched his eyebrows as he tried to determine if she'd actually said what she thought he had. _She was pissed at me...drenched from the rain...demanded my coat...and then she...what?_

"I said," she repeated, still looking away from him. "I might've...came onto...you."

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><p><strong>AN: **

_For those who may feel you've seen part of this chapter before, you aren't going crazy. It's because a chunk was previously seen, in modified form, in chapter 34 of _**Lesera128**_'s "What I Wish I Could've Said." Just FYI._

_Ah, yes, there's the Booth and Brennan we all know and love. After Parts I and II, most of you were like, "Who is this man, and what did you do with our beloved Booth?" But he's back, baby! And so is our beloved Brennan, with all of her vulnerabilities (every one of which melts that little Boothy heart in bed next to her)._

_But now, he's pressing her to spill the details of that dream because he wants her to get all that angst off her chest. That dream in which both of them said things to each other that would peel the wallpaper off of walls. And the things they __**did**__ to each other in that dream! Is Brennan gonna have the nerve to fess up to the details of the dream? And how's Booth gonna react when he hears them? _::nibbles fingernails nervously::

_Wouldn't you like to know?_

_You know what to do. Motivate us by leaving a review _::wink::

**Promotional moment:** _For those of you who like the TV series Angel, we posted a oneshot called "_**Toe to Toe**_" that is the first in a series of four Bones/Angel crossovers (Dharmasera's first foray outside of the Bones fandom). _**Warning****:**_ if you thought the VBI pieces were M-rated, "Toe to Toe" and its sequels will singe your eyelashes. Very hot, and very edgy. If you don't like the notion of violence or murder, skip this one. Because, oh, there's no Angel in "Toe to Toe"—it's Angelus. Angel's dark, evil, soulless, horny-as-hell predecessor. Sex without moral constraints? Do the math, peeps. "Toe to Toe" posted under _**Lesera128**_'s profile, so go check it out._

_In any case, we really can't wait to know what you folks thought of this latest installment. We know you'll love Part IV. (You know you will. It's the happy ending.) Go ahead and click on that sparkly blue button there and let us know how we did on this one. In the meantime, we'll be working on getting Part IV ready for you folks._

_Thanks!_


	26. 26—Pyrite, Pt IV

**A Very Bad Idea**

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><p><strong>By<strong>**:** dharmamonkey & Lesera128  
><strong>Rated<strong>**: **M  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>**: **Ummm, nope, we still don't own anything. We have, however, apparently become squatters in the sandbox that we crashed... so, umm... yeah. There we go.

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><p><strong><span>AN: **_Well, well. Here we are. At the last chapter/part of another Very Bad Idea scenario. Lucky Number Seven, in this case. This one was another one of those not-just-about-the-unf VBIs. Hopefully, as we move into the last part, you'll find it nonetheless satisfying. We think you will. (We haven't let you folks down yet in that department, right?) Speaking of that, it's time for another silly..._

**Unf Alert:** _Think of this as the McDonald's "Careful - Contents May Be Hot" notice. As per usual, the really epic hotness is revealed in the last chapter of a VBI scenario. You, our friends, having arrived at said last chapter, are about to get to some very tingly unfness, which if you don't want to read about, you should save yourself and turn back now. For the rest of you, well, you know what you're here for, and it's not reading our pithy A/N's (though we have been told they are mildly amusing). So, fasten your seat belts, pull forward and have your payment ready at the window. _

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><p><strong>VII. Pyrite, Part IV<strong>

**Pertinent Details on Scenario #7****: **Set sometime between the episode 5x22- "The Beginning in the End" and 6x8- "The Doctor in the Photo."

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><p>Booth couldn't help himself as he stared at Brennan in expectation, afraid he was going to say something that was wrong in what he knew was a very...well, delicate...situation. However, he couldn't help himself as he stared at her, leaned over, and cheerfully kissed her shoulder as he wondered why she was so put out over the idea of her acting on the obvious sexual attraction they'd always had for one another.<p>

"Come on, Bones," he said playfully. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Booth!" she said, turning on him, obviously put off by his blithe reaction to her very personal confession. "It was!"

"Ummm," he murmured, a bit of blatant male confusion present on his face as he scratched his head, sending his already-chaotic hair in even more different directions. "You're gonna have to help me out here, Bones. Tell me again...what's the problem with you hitting on me—especially considering the fact that I like it and really want you to come on to me? So, why is this a bad thing again?"

"Because," she explained, trying not to feel too much frustration at what was a clear symptom of the obtuseness inherent in the male specimens of their species. "You...in the dream...you'd just rejected me." He still looked at her with a perplexed look on his face that didn't do a lot to soothe the flash of frustration Brennan was feeling at his inability to see why the situation in her dream—i.e., her blatantly coming onto him in such circumstances—was such a bad thing. "Booth...don't you understand? You'd just told me that your dumbass blonde girlfriend wasn't a consolation prize and implied that I was by default...and I couldn't handle that type of rejection so I came on to you, and you liked it, and even more disturbing, I liked it that you liked it!" Her words came in a half-choked gush that puzzled Booth as much as the words themselves.

"Hmmm," he said as he tried to take in what she'd said. "You know you're nobody's consolation prize, Bones." He kissed her shoulder again, letting his lips linger on her skin as he felt her tremble slightly. "Because after last night, you know that you've got nothing to worry about, right? The only woman I want has amazing auburn hair and brilliant gray eyes." He waggled his eyebrows, trying to elicit a smile from her. When he failed, he frowned slightly and then said, "But, uhh...okay, Bones. So...you came on to me after I kind of blew you off?"

"There was no 'kind of' about it," she told him. "You were quite clear and quite...adamant."

"Okay," he said. "Then...even after all of that, you still came on to me...and what? We both liked it?"

"Yes," Brennan nodded. "On some level, I'd have to say that we both did."

Trying to make sense of her confusing words, and starting to become a bit frustrated himself at not being able to grasp the point, Booth shook his head as he said, "Okay, Bones...I, uhh...maybe it's the hangover still, but I'm not sure I understand. If we both liked it, what was the big deal? I'm obviously missing something here."

"The 'big deal,' Booth," Brennan interjected, "is that, as you've so adroitly both phrased and summarized the situation, all of that happened with both of us knowing that you were in a committed relationship with another female who wasn't me. Do you understand now?"

"Wait a minute," he said. "I, that is...me...in your dream...do you mean I cheated on another woman with you?" he said, his brow furrowing as he waited expectantly for an answer to his question. _Whoa, _he thought. _She_..._wait a sec_—_she had a dream about me cheating on someone else by getting together with her? Because, in that dream, I wasn't hers. I was someone else's. Wait, I mean_—_she doesn't actually think...is there some little voice inside of her telling her that she somehow doesn't have me? Or that she doesn't deserve to have me? Awwwww, damn. After last night? After yesterday? _Booth took a breath and tried to conceal the flash of sadness that washed over him at the revelation. _If yesterday was about anything, it was that I've always been hers. I could never move on. But, if she had that dream_—_oh, God._

"Errrr...yes," she said, helpless to meet his questioning gaze and unable to help herself as she let out a small breath of relief that he'd finally taking her meaning, but now uncertain what to do in response. "Yes..." her voice trailed off.

"Wait a sec," he said. He arched his brow and his forehead crinkled as he finally caught up with her train of thought. "So, if I cheated with you on this mystery other woman that means...did we actually have sex in this dream of yours?"

Again, the sight of her throwing Booth down on the hood of her car flashed in her mind's eye. She climbed on top of him, she remembered, and she'd cried out when she came. Recalling the orgasm she'd had made her flush even redder than she'd been in the moment of her dream.

When she was silent, and he noticed her turning red in embarrassment, Booth pressed her, "Bones?"

"Yes," she finally muttered.

"'Yes' what?" he asked.

Snapping up to meet his questioning gaze, Brennan nodded furiously as she spoke. "Yes," she finally confirmed. "Yes...we did have sex."

"That's not a bad thing, right?" he said with a grin, his voice dropping a little as he stroked his index finger over her sheet-covered thigh. His attempt at humor fell flat, and he frowned, his gut clenching as he sensed the deep angst and insecurity that had shaken her in the wake of this dream. He wanted to take her in his arms and show her that, no matter what had happened in her dream—and no matter what kind of doubts or insecurities her subconscious whispered in the ear of her mind—none of it was real. "You know I love you, Bones. You know that, right? I mean, especially after last night." He took a breath, realizing that, no matter how much he wanted to take the pain and uncertainty away from her, the only way she'd see her way to the other end of this was to have her explain what she'd dreamed and somehow unpack its significance.

"Last night," she began tentatively. "No, last night...it wasn't a bad thing. And, I know...after what happened yesterday that you _do _love me. But, in my dream, Booth—if you understand nothing else, you have to realize...what we were, our lives then...we weren't in the same place in my dream, okay? We were so far apart, and it didn't seem like we'd ever be in the same place and at the same time. So, when we had sex, it was...it was...in a different context, in my dream." She struggled to make him understand. "And, well, in my dream? Well, a bed...a bed wasn't exactly involved."

"Heh," he said, unable to suppress a snicker as he took the meaning of her words. "Well, at least we know where that part of the dream must've come from, right? Since, the same was true last night for us, right? At least," he grinned at her. "Well, at least the first time."

"Well, we didn't even _eventually _make it into a bed," she conceded. "But...at least, last night, we were able to maintain enough self-control so that we eventually did make it into my bed—which, for a number of reasons, not the least of which being my concern about your back, was a very good thing." She stopped and chewed her bottom lip as she added, "I suppose it's a good thing that the you and me in reality apparently have more self control than the you and me in my dream world do since last night we managed not to finally consummate our relationship in what was, technically, a public place."

"We had sex in a public place?" Booth's brow furrowed and then the light of realization flickered in his eyes. "I mean...wait...where were we..._errrr_, are you saying we actually had sex _in _the parking garage?"

"Yes," she said, blanching a bit at seeing his reaction to her telling him what was one of the more benign details of her dream. Sighing, she knew she couldn't be less than accurate as she was in all other things and so added, "Specifically, on the hood of my car."

"Seriously?" Booth coughed as he looked at her in disbelief. "Uhhh...that is...did we really...we actually had sex on the hood of your car?"

_Okay, _he thought. _I know I can't say this to her right now...but that's so fucking hot, I can't stand it. Me fucking Bones on the hood of a car. Guh. _He bit down on the inside of his lip. _That's...that's just so totally and epically awesome. It's...I mean, I've thought about it before...I wonder if this means if she'd ever think about maybe going for it if she dreamed about it. God, how hot she'd be...even hotter than she already is, which is pretty fucking hot. But, man...what an idea. I mean, that's definitely somewhere on the list of Booth fantasies, somewhere in the low twenties, maybe_—_#21 or #22, maybe? __I was always hoping it'd be on the hood of a '71 Chevelle SS or maybe a really screamin' supercharged jet black Dodge Viper, but...dude...maybe I'm the one that's dreaming now. That's it. I'm dreaming about her telling me about a dream in which she_—

"I don't know if it makes a difference or not, but it was the Mercedes and not the Prius," she told him as she noticed how long it had been since he'd said anything. Not certain what else to say until he spoke again, she stared at him expectantly.

"Hmmm," he murmured dreamily, shifting his hips against the sweat-creased sheet beneath him as he felt a vague tingle in his lower back. _Okay, so it's not a Viper or a Chevelle SS, but the Mercedes is pretty hot. That's a great fucking car, and_—_well, the idea of fucking on the hood of that fucking car? Holy hell, that's hot._ "Well, the Prius is a partial zero emissions vehicle, and assuming we went all the way on the hood of said car, I'd say that this was not a partial zero emissions situation, so we were good, I think."

"We did," she said, confirmed vaguely. "That is...we did complete coitus. And, it...it was...God, we were both so angry, Booth." She stopped and then became lost in the recollection for a few moments before she said, "We just kept arguing, and somehow in the argument, things went from bad to worse and then...you sort of fell onto the hood of my car, and you kept taunting me...so I did the only thing I could think of to shut you up."

His eyes wide, Booth shook his head slightly. "Okay, I gotta ask, Bones—ummm...what was that?" He asked the question, but he had a pretty good feeling he knew what the answer was going to be, more or less, the moment the question left his mouth. He held the tip of his tongue between his lips as he waited for her reply. _This is gonna be even hotter than I thought it was, _he thought. _Screwing on the hood of a car, in a parking garage, and she was in control. Damn._

"What was what?" she blinked at him, clearly not understanding his question.

"Umm, what _did _you do that shut me up?" he finally managed to croak. "What did, uhhh, what did you do, Bones?" Again, the moment the question fell from his lips, he had a good idea of what the answer would be, but he waited expectantly to hear the answer. He pressed his lips together firmly and tried to ignore the tittering sensation in his groin, hoping that if he ignored the fact that he was getting turned on, maybe she might not notice either.

"I stripped you, pushed you down on top of the car hood, and climbed on top of you," Brennan answered quickly. She then stopped as she realized that the speed with which she may have answered the question might implied that she had enjoyed the whole experience. _And, maybe...even if there was a small, infinitesimal part of me that may have enjoyed it, there's no way that I'm ever telling him that. So, umm... _"I think...that is, I'm certain you can infer what happened from there, correct?"

Booth's mouth broke into a crooked grin as he noticed her attempt to avoid giving him the very details that he craved.. "You, uhhhh, stripped me down?" he asked, attempting to coax her into a more open...and more giving mood. "So, uhhh...I guess the next thing that I've gotta ask, Bones, is...well, where was I during all this? 'Cause, you, ummm, make it seem like I was just kind of standing there while I let you do all this epically hot stuff to me." He waggled his eyebrows teasingly. "And since I think we both can say that we both know that I'm not, you know, a wilting wallflower when it comes to sex...uhhh, what gives?"

Brennan considered his words and then sighed. "Well, I suppose if I'm going to be specific, I should admit that you weren't standing there—"

"Awesome," he nodded, quite pleased with what she'd volunteered. "What was I doing?"

"In reality," she continued, "It would actually be more accurate to say that you were reclining. That's actually the most appropriate descriptor of the initial position that you'd assumed, as I remember it...and to address your second question, well...not to put too fine a point on the matter, but except for being as I normally am when you say I'm being 'mouthy'..." She hesitated for a moment as she tried to find the right words to explain the arrangement to her partner. "At least in my dream, you were rather...well, accommodating when it came to the sex," Brennan told him.

"Well," he snickered. "I mean, I'm an accommodating kind of guy, up to a point, but—"

"You were _very _accommodating," Brennan cutting him off again.

_Why do you want to hear this, Booth? I mean, it was just a stupid dream. And, I'm not certain why you keep interrupting me if the whole point of this is a cathartic exercise that's supposed to make me feel better about the entire situation_, she thought. _If anything, it seems as if you have some more...base interest in me recounting the tale this way...and I'm not quite certain why, but if you want to hear it, so be it._

"In fact, the only way in which I might be able to say that you weren't as accommodating as I might've wished is that the more aggressive I became, the more and more you continued to verbally taunt me with what I might label as some rather...scathing insults."

_So lemme get this right, _Booth thought, absentmindedly stroking the sateen sheet with his finger. _So I'm leaning back on the hood of her wickedly awesome silver Mercedes, and she pushes me down, climbs on top of me and rides me like—aww, fuck. God, that's hot. _He pulled the sheet over his lap, not because he was cold but to try and conceal his growing hard-on. _I probably shouldn't be getting this turned on, but holy hell. So far, this dream's as hot as any dream—or daydream—that I've ever had about her. Wow. Keep talking, baby. Don't stop. Please don't fucking stop._

Then, the gravity of her last words finally dawned on him. _Wait. What did she just say? _

"Wait—what?" he asked her as her words refocused his attention at last. "What do you mean 'scathing'? Aww, damn." He looked up at her and sighed. "What...what did I say, Bones?" he asked, his voice taking on a slightly worried tone. "Was I an asshole in your dream? I sure hope I wasn't a dick in your dream. 'Cause you know I'm not that kind of guy...right?"

"Of course, I know that, Booth. You're one of the most honorable and truest men I know." She smiled a small smile when she saw him grin at her compliment. "As to your other question, it really doesn't matter what you said," Brennan said dismissively. She then paused before she seized on some of his other words and added, "And, while it's true that you can be a dick when you want to be as the occasion arises—"

"Hey!" he blurted out, pursing his lips and pouting at her. "I don't do that—wait, really?" He blinked at her as he stared at her with wide, slow-blinking puppy-dog eyes. "I'm not...you aren't saying I can be a dick, are you?"

"Well, yes," Brennan told him. "But, you know that already, so it's not like it should be a surprise...correct?"

He suppressed a sheepish grin and shrugged weakly. "I guess so," he mumbled.

"I believe Angela once summarized it best that the cocky thing and the dickish thing are two sides of the same proverbial coin that you flip very, very expertly," Brennan said with a shrug.

"Jeez," he whined as he flashed her a mock hurt look. "You guys really talk that way about me behind my back?"

Immediately, Brennan's brow furrowed as she worried that she'd said something that wasn't right and had somehow caused him pain. "Oh, God, Booth. I'm sorry," she said, a bit of the earlier vulnerability returning to her demeanor. "I'm...I-I didn't, that is, I didn't mean to—"

"Don't worry about it, Bones," he said with a reassuring laugh, reaching his hand over and cupping her sheet-covered knee. _Wow, _he thought. _She's really freaked out about this thing. She went from joking with me to guilty and apologetic in about 0.4 seconds there. _

"I was just kidding there," he said brightly, then squeezed her knee gently. "So, anyway, I was a dick in your dream?"

"Yes," Brennan said, a look of uncertainty still clinging to her face as she questioned his response. "But, I know that whatever you said and did in my dream was a highly distorted representation of you filtered through the mesh of my subconscious and any insecurities I may feel. Subsequently, an such 'dickish' behavior—both figuratively and literally—wasn't a true reflection on the real you, Booth. I know that—I swear I do, but..."

Booth raised an eyebrow and leaned in a little closer to her. "But, what, Bones? What are you saying there, huh?" Seeing the uncertain look on her face, he said softened his voice as he reached out for one of her hands and clasped it reassuringly in his own, "You know you can tell me, you know that right? I won't judge you in any way...or hold it against you. You can always tell me anything, Bones. It was just a dream, and I know that. So...you can tell me, Bones...that is, if you want to."

She considered his words for a minute and then slowly nodded. "I do trust you, and I want to tell you since you want to know. It's just that...well, my dream, Booth?" She looked away briefly, nodded to herself and then brought her gaze up to meet his. "It was quite lewd," she suddenly confessed. "And, to be quite honest, since I'd always have such blatant honesty between us no matter what, well—I don't even know why I'm embarrassed about it now, since I've never felt shame when it comes to sex, but the dream...it was quite lewd. And, it bordered on obscene, Booth. In the dream...what was said, what was done...by both of us. It was so...lustful and profligate. I just— "

Booth laid down next to her and propped his head on his hand. _Lustful and profligate? _he thought. _Sounds like the kind of dream that's so scorching that makes you want to avoid confession because it's at once so naughty and yet so delicious you don't want the buzzkill of telling the priest. Not that, well, that's ever happened to me, but_,_ uhhh. _He swallowed as he felt the raw, sharp tugging sensation behind his navel that signaled his increasing arousal. _I really shouldn't feel this way, _he thought. _I should be helping her get through this, not getting off on it._ He quietly cleared his throat. _It is pretty fucking hot, though._

"Now you _have _to tell me," he said with a wicked twinkle in his eye.

"Why?" she responded instantly. "What's the big deal?"

"Awwww, come on, Bones," he said with a tempting smile and a slight pleading whine in his voice. "What's the big deal? You can really ask me that with a straight face? After a lead-in like that? Come on, baby...please. You've just _gotta _tell me what happened next. Please. I need details, Bones...and lots of 'em. So, please...have pity on me. Be nice, huh? Don't make me beg—because I will. Given how ever-loving hot this little ditty that your genius egghead brain of yours cooked up sounds, I gotta know more, so I'm not above begging. I'll do it. So, unless you want to see me begging, you've just gotta tell me. Please?"

"It was just sex, Booth," she sighed as she felt a strange flush of warmth in her chest at his obvious prurient interest in her dream. _He's not...he's not becoming aroused by this for some strange reason...is he?_. "As I said, we were naked..." He licked his lips as she spoke, and Brennan began to fall into the telling of her story as she remembered and corrected herself. "Okay, wait."

"What?" he asked breathlessly, his eyes widened in anticipation as she halted the story.

"I don't think...that is, I'm fairly certain that I wasn't completely naked by this point in the dream," she said.

"And, that's how you know it was a damn dream," Booth chuckled. "Because there's no way in hell I would've left a stitch of clothing on your epic body by that point if this had really happened—"

"Booth," Brennan said, narrowing her eyes at him.

He flushed sheepishly as he realized what he'd just said. "Oh, sorry," he muttered. "You were saying?"

"I was saying," Brennan continued as she shot him another look. "Anyway, I was saying that I think I'd left my bra on for some reason, although I don't remember why. But, that's not the important part. What's the important part is that we were pretty much naked and...naked, you were lying prone on the hood of my car, and after I...err, manipulated you to make certain that you were aroused enough for me to impale myself, I climbed on top of you and...we had sex. Simple. End of story."

Booth grunted at hearing the word _impale. _He squirmed against the mattress as his mind's eye was filled with a delicious image of his partner, poised over him, and riding him to the edge of oblivion. He reached down and pulled the comforter up from the foot of the bed in an attempt to cover his very obvious erection. _I don't know if I'm gonna survive the rest of this story. _He pulled the duvet over his groin and took a deep breath. _Wait, _he blinked. _I need to turn off the little brain and turn on the big brain here. Get a grip, Booth. _He took a deep breath and turned to face her again.

"Now, wait—wait a sec," he said, narrowing his eyes and looking at her critically. "Hang on there, Bones. You woke up crying, baby. So far, I'm not sure—other than this being a pretty hot dream with a pretty angsty beginning—why you'd wake up crying."

"It wasn't hot," she said suddenly as she shook her head. "It was...animalistic and driven out of feelings of raw instinct and the most base of emotions. You'd hurt me, as I said, so I wanted to hurt you. And I...I wanted to take what I could. I didn't care if it was right or moral or legitimate. I didn't care that you weren't mine to have. I didn't care that you'd told me not a half-hour before that you didn't want to hurt me, but that you were off metaphorical limits to me in that way because you were with someone else. None of that mattered to me, Booth. I just wanted to take, and...use you, I suppose. For just a little bit of time, I wanted to take what I could. And...so I did."

Her voice trailed off, and for a minute, Booth wasn't certain as to what she'd actually said in that moment since her final words had been spoken so faintly they were almost inaudible. Nevertheless, her confession caught him by surprise, and for a minute, Booth lay there in shocked silence.

Finally, he looked up at her and dared to ask, "So what are you trying to tell me, Bones? Did you...did you basically take advantage of me, or something, in this dream? I mean, was I a willing participant in this...or?"

"I wouldn't quite put it like that," she said as soon as she'd realized what he was asking. "That is...no, I didn't take advantage of you, and yes, you were a very willing participant. I mean...I warned you. I wanted you to go, and I warned you that something might happen if you stayed and still...you wouldn't leave."

She stopped as she shook away the memory of her dream and then added with an arched eyebrow, "In case you're wondering, it's not like I tied you up and violated you without your consent, Booth. As I said, you were quite accommodating...but it wasn't without a price. You...you let me fuck you, but it wasn't...it wasn't simple or without a cost."

Booth stared at her for a moment, and although he very much wanted to reach out to her, he resisted the urge. Instead, he kept his actions confined to words as he spoke with very carefully chosen words. "What do you mean, Bones?" he asked, his voice soft and even as he tried to make sure his tone was completely devoid of judgment. "I don't understand."

"That's the funny thing," she said, looking away from him. "It...after it happened? It...it wasn't like I expected. You—you said that you'd give me whatever I wanted, but that in the end it wouldn't matter. You...you said I could fuck you...or that I'd try to, but in the end, it wouldn't matter because..."

"Because why?" Booth asked hesitantly. _What is it, Bones? _he asked silently, pleading with his eyes that he might understand. _Why wouldn't it matter? What did I say? _It took every ounce of willpower he had not to reach out and take her into his arms, but he knew he needed to give her the space to reveal the most troubling aspects of her dream. _You can tell me. Come on. Please tell me_.

"Because, in the end I'd still be alone," she said grimly, "and I'd have to live with the knowledge that the reason I kept starting things with you but never finishing them was because you scared me. You said...for once... you said I was going to finish what I'd started for once in my life." She paused as she remembered the flash of indignant rage she'd felt as he'd continued and her subconscious had skewered her psyche and used a form that looked and sounded like Booth to do it. "You...you were were taunting me, and you kept saying that you'd given me everything you ever had or ever was, and that this time I was damn well going to take." She paused for breath and again looked away before she continued, "You told me that...I was going to have to try to deal with the fact that I wouldn't know how to be with a real man like you if my life depended on it because I was too scared...that I wouldn't know what to do with a real man's cock if it were stiff and inside me and all I had to do was move," the words tumbled out of her mouth.

"Oh, Jesus," Booth whispered. "Seriously, Bones? I-I...I did that...I-I said that to you? I mean, that is...dream-me did?"

"It got vicious then...the sex, I mean," she told him softly as she nodded in response to his question. "I-I...afterward, when we were done, you said that I was falling apart because I was scared of how I felt. You said that you scared me because of how I feel about you...how I feel when I'm with you...all of it. But, I love how I feel when you make me have those responses, and so that I wanted to be with you, but only on my terms...which basically entailed, metaphorically castrating you," she said. "There was some quip you had about my terms requiring me to cut off your balls and stick them up on a shelf in the lab..." Her voice trailed off again and for several moments she looked away in silence. "You said I could never really be with you unless I ruined you...unless I ruined the good man that you were by breaking you."

"No," he whispered, finally reaching for her again as he caressed her upper arm with the palm of his hand. He shook his head and looked at her warmly, his soft, brown eyes suddenly glistening as he heard the pain underlying her words. "No," he said again, his voice low and even. "It's not...look, Bones—you know that's not true, right?"

"How can you say that?" She suddenly looked up at him, her eyes watering once more. "How can you possibly say that when it's what happened, Booth. It _happened_...and not just in my dream."

"Bones," he murmured, saddened that she would think such a thing. "You didn't break me, Bones. We've hurt each other, and we were this close to leaving each other, but you didn't break me. I'm here, right? And I'm here as a willing, happy partner, not..."

"I crushed your metaphorical heart," she told him in a strangulated voice. "I know you remember it. I do. I can never forget it. That night...months ago? It's with me every day, Booth—every damn day. And, the reason why it's always with me...and probably will _always _stay with me is that you know exactly what I did to you that night, Booth. The way you looked when...you were so sad. And, I'm still not certain how but for some strangely persistent strand of stubbornness that's rampant in your demeanor how we ended up here, because...it's true, I think. That night...it happened maybe...maybe it's because I didn't know how else to control you."

"No," he said, rolling over and cupping his hand on her jaw. "No, no, no. Bones, that's not true."

"It _is_," she insisted. "You know it is."

"No," he repeated, his response growing firmer and more insistent as he sought out her eyes and refused to look away until she'd acknowledged him. "Look, that's not how—"

"You can't tell me I didn't hurt you that night," she interrupted him with a simplicity that tore at Booth's heart. _I almost destroyed you that night, and I know that now. I know it. I just do...and I'll never forget it. _"I know I did, Booth. I know I did."

"Bones—" _God, Bones...what are you doing to torture yourself here? _he thought sadly. _And_—_more importantly_—_why?_

"I _did_," she insisted, her voice scarcely more than a mutter but somehow stronger than it was just moments before. She sighed and added softly, "And, even more importantly, if I did it once before, I'll do it again, Booth. We both know that I will. I'll keep wearing you down until you're either broken or one day you'll just leave me...and on that day, I doubt I'll be able to hold any blame against you since I know I'll have driven you to it. I'll have only myself to blame."

"No," he said firmly as he shook his head furiously and sat up in the bed. _You've got to let this thing go, Bones, _he pleaded silently_. It'll kill you otherwise. You have to let it go, and I'm going to help to you to do just that starting right now_.

"No," he said. "Listen to me, Bones. Listen, alright? I'm here. Yesterday, we were at a crossroads, and we made a choice, each of us, not to leave. We made that choice, and I'm so thankful for it, I can't even tell you. We made that choice...together. And, now? Right now? I'm here because I want to be with you, and I think you're here because you want to be with me. Not because you castrated me, figuratively or otherwise."

"Wanting's never been the issue, Booth," she said with a sad shake of her head. "It's the consequences of the wanting...those consequences, or the price to be paid, if you prefer...I think that's—that's what's at the heart of the issue here."

"Okay, Bones...so what if it is?" he asked, his voice edged with a vague frustration. "Then what's the price?"

"For a man like you to be with a woman like me," she whispered. "You...that is...maybe you can't be who you really are if you're with a person like who I am..."

"Bones," he snapped in exasperation as he moved his hand to the back of his head and ran his fingers through his hair unconsciously.. "Stop. Just...take two seconds...and just stop, alright?" He took a another deep breath. "Look...you and I, we're singular people. We're not like other people. But if there's anything we've learned, or at the very least, something that we _should've_ friggin' learned by now—over the last five years, that is—it's that you and I are better people when we're together than we are apart. You make me a better person, Bones. A better man, really. You always have...right from the very beginning. And I like to think my friendship and our partnership has helped you be a better person. And, so, that's how I know, okay? That's exactly the reason why I know this _can _work...it does work." He sighed. "You know that, don't you? I mean...what we have...it's good, isn't it?"

"Yes," she told him with a thickness continuing to choke her as she spoke. "But—"

"No!" he told her more forcefully as he felt another stab of frustration vent at her stubbornness. "No, Bones—there can't be any 'buts' on this one."

He stopped and then softened his tone and took a deep breath, then continued.

"Look...is it possible we'll hurt each other from time to time?" he asked. "Sure. Hell, yes...it's probably gonna definitely happen because of the type of people we are. And that's okay...it is...because will I frustrate the fuck out of you sometimes just like you drive me batty? Damn straight. That's a damn given, too. But in the end, Bones, when everything's said and done between us...you know it's okay, right? It'll be okay because I know in my heart that we'll always have a net positive. That's why...that's why I left that MEPS station yesterday morning and left those damn enlistment papers on the table. And that's why I asked you to stay. And that's why I took you out to celebrate and got drunk on champagne with you and why I'm so friggin' happy that we spent the night in one another's arms. Do you understand that? Do you? Please...God...please, Bones. Tell me you understand."

She struggled to listen to his words, but the insecurities continued to gnaw at her. Finally she breathed, "It's just...we can't—I'll hurt you, Booth. I know I will. I'll do something that will either change who you are or drive you away. It's almost a statistical certainty."

"Bones, there are no guarantees," he said with a bit of sadness in his voice as he spoke softly. "And, you know...just as well as I do that with the risks come the possibility of rewards. The best rewards, okay? The very best kind. Nothing worth having is without some cost, or risk—or both. I guess that's what I meant that night about being a gambler. That's a risk I'm willing to take. Take it with me, Bones. Let's make something together, you and me."

"Booth," she whispered. "I-I...what if we can't? What if we fail?" She looked over at him, her pale eyes brimmed with tears. "What if we don't make it?"

"We won't fail," he answered simply. "We _will _make it, Bones. I know it. I swear to God I know it."

"How can you know that?" she asked. "How? How...please tell me, and I promise I'll believe you. Tell me...how can you be so damn sure?"

"I know, Bones," Booth said as he smiled at her. "I just know because I have faith...faith enough for both of us if you're coming up short in that department." He leaned in and slowly traced his index finger along her collarbone. "Do you trust me?" he asked as he stared into her deep pale eyes.

She blinked, loosening a couple of tears that fell onto her cheeks as his words—or the words of his dreamspace doppelganger—echoed in her mind.

'_Do you want to trust me?'  
><em>

'_Do you want to be with me?'_

She nodded slowly. "Yes," she whispered. "I trust you, Booth. I'm scared, and I'm uncertain, but I trust you. More than anyone or anything else in my life, I trust you. I swear I do. I trust you. I trust us..."

"Good," he replied as he smiled at her. "Because you know what, Bones?" His pursed lips gave way to a toothy smile as he raised his hand to caress her jaw. "I trust _you_," he said. "I trust you more than I've ever trusted anyone." He moved his hand to brush a stray lock of hair away from her forehead. "I've never doubted you, Bones. Never. Not once."

He curled his fingers into a loose fist and gently caressed her temple with the flat of his knuckles before he leaned in and kissed her. At first, he only brushed his lips against hers, pausing as he felt her lips briefly tremble beneath his before she opened her mouth to his. He stroked his tongue along the slim edge of her lips, hesitating as he tasted the salt of her tears, then a low hum sounded in his throat as he felt her tongue dart out to meet his.

As she kissed him, she leaned her shoulder into his chest, and it took only him rolling onto his back as he gently nudged her hip and she took her place on top of him, straddling his thighs. He lay against the mattress and gazed into her pale eyes which seemed to him to glitter as she stared back at him. He watched her, his hands drifting to rest on her hips as she let her own fingers skate along the edge of his chest and over his biceps before she palmed the soft skin and firm muscle of his round, broad shoulders as a smile finally broke across her face once more.

"You have incredible shoulders," she said, her mouth falling open in a soft laugh as he grinned proudly.

"Heh," he chuckled as he squeezed her hips lightly. "I remember once you told me I had 'a perfect acromion.'"

"I remember," she murmured lazily. "That was the Santa bomber case. I was busy trying to collect evidence and all I could think about was wanting to touch you and how good it finally felt to have the opportunity to do so."

"Yeah," he snickered playfully at the recollection. "It felt pretty damn good to have you touching me finally, too. It was awesome, but you damn near drove me out of my skin. That whole reciting saints thing?" He scrunched up his nose with a grin. "It didn't really work." He paused and then said, "You know...I went home that night and Googled 'acromion' because I was so psyched and flattered that you thought I had a perfect anything that I just had to know..."

"Really?" she blinked at him in clear surprise. "I didn't know that."

"Well, now you do," he nodded at her, pleased with himself that he'd finally surprised her as she so often did for him.

Stroking her thumbs over the bony points that protruded slightly from the outer edge of his shoulder where the fanlike trapezius and his bulging deltoid muscles met, she smiled coyly and added, "Your shoulders were the first thing I noticed about you, that morning we first met." She kneaded his muscles with her thumbs and shrugged. "I've been admiring your shoulders for years, Booth."

"Thanks, Bones," he said, his voice suddenly a bit more hoarse than it had been in the moments before she'd started touching him. _Oh, God, _he thought. _She's touching me and looking at me like that, and mother Mary, I don't think I'll ever get used to having her look at me that way when she's touching me. _He twisted his hips against the bottom sheet as he felt himself getting hard again. _Damn, woman, _he thought. _I can't believe we waited this long. But I don't wanna wait any longer—not this morning_. "But, uhhhh, if you're really into it, how about we skip the admiring and go straight to worshipping since I've, uhhh, I've got some other parts that are in pretty sore need of your attention." He threw the sheets and covers off of him as he looked at her and saw her eyes darken in a matter of a few short moments.

His last words had barely dissolved into a snicker before Brennan leaned over and covered his mouth with her kiss. As their tongues twirled together in the space between them, glancing off one another as he moaned into her kiss, she felt a surge of want pulse through her before she reluctantly pulled her mouth from his. Brennan sat up and inched back until she was seated between Booth's knees, which fell apart to make room for her as he watched her move and realized what she was doing. She noted his lazy grin and arched a wicked eyebrow as she stroked her thumb over the underside of his growing arousal, smiling herself at the soft sigh that passed from his lips at the contact. She closed her fingers around him and pumped him, although such a thing was hardly necessary since he was already rock hard in her hand.

After a few strokes, she licked her lips and bent down, dragging her tongue around the underside of his tip before taking him into her mouth. A longer, louder sigh issued from him followed by a moan as she took him all the way in, her nose twitching a little at feeling the tickle of his crisp curls. She sucked him gently, wiggling the point of her tongue along the underside of him as she worked her mouth over him. Brennan felt his fingers of his right hand thread through her hair as she glanced out of the corner of her eye and saw him fist the sheets with his left, and though her mouth was more than occupied, her cheeks rose in a smile as she savored the knowledge of how she was affecting him.

"Ohhhhhh," he sighed. "Mmmmm..." He cupped his hand around the side of her head and tried to slow her movements as he felt the coiling sensation in his belly signal that he was already beginning to spend towards a release. "Bones," he whispered. "Baby...ohhh..." He released a slow breath through pursed lips as she continued to work him over with her mouth. "Oh my God, baby, that feels so good, but...ohhhhh, damn...if you don't...ahhhhh, fuck!" He stroked his fingertips along her scalp to encourage her to let him go, struggling more with every second to formulate an intelligent thought into a coherent utterance. "Bones, I...you've gotta...ohhh..." He rubbed his thumb over her temple and gently pushed her head away as she released him with a soft _pop_.

"Mmmmm," was all she said as she moved up to straddle him once more, hovering as she lined herself up over him.

Booth lolled his head to the side as he watched her slowly lower herself onto him. She sucked in a sharp breath between her teeth as she felt him fill her up, and for a minute just sat there, still, as she looked down at the broad, golden expanse of his chest. For his part, he leaned his head back into the pillow as he felt himself suddenly enveloped by her silky wet warmth, and he squeezed his eyes shut for the moment it took him to collect himself again.

"Fuck," he hissed as she leaned forward, bracing her hands on his forearms as he held onto her hips. She began to move, rolling her hips back and forth as she stroked herself over him, slowly retreating from him before swallowing him up again. She watched with a wicked grin as his face slackened each time he entered her, seemingly as if the brief moments her rocking movement caused him to withdraw pained him, and the pain was instantly eased by the soft, silky sensation of her body enveloping him once more.

"Ohhhh," Brennan moaned as she felt her release begin to coil ever more tightly in her belly each time she felt his hard, thick length fill her up. "Ohhhh, God, Booth..."

Booth squeezed her hips gently in his hands as he watched her forehead uncrease and her mouth hang open loosely as her sighs and moans became louder and more insistent. "God, Bones," he whispered. "Come on, baby..."

Brennan felt herself fall into a flat spin as she was overcome by a sense of weightlessness, and a wave of lightheadedness crashed over her. She gasped slightly and abruptly ceased her rocking motion as she looked down at him, her brow suddenly creased as a certain feeling of dark heaviness brought the freefall of her ecstasy to a halt.

It was almost as if as soon as she felt it—if such a thing were even possible, perhaps he felt it even a microsecond before she did—he, too, knew that something was wrong. Her rhythm stopped just for a split second as she tried half-heartedly to recover and the futility of her efforts made her sudden shift in behavior even more glaring. After a moment, she stopped moving all together, and her body tensed as she opened her eyes and looked away from him.

"What's wrong?" Booth whispered, kneading his thumbs into her fleshy hips, hoping that his efforts might coax her back from whatever place she had suddenly gone to without him.

"Nothing," she began to say before he sighed heavily.

"Liar," he said, hoping that the gentleness in his voice might soothe the sting of the single word that he'd uttered. "Come on, Bones—tell me what's wrong. You've never lied to me before, so why start now?" He watched her flushed cheeks blanch a half-shade as an emotion he could not read flickered behind her pale eyes. "Bones," he whispered, bringing his hands around to caress the silky skin of her lower back. "Please...talk to me."

"This wasn't how this was supposed to be," she finally managed to tell him, her voice strained to the point that Booth had to struggle to make out the faintness of the words she'd spoken. "It wasn't—us...I-I...I have to do better than I did before if I'm going to make this...us...if we're going to work. I have to do better."

"Better than you did before?" he asked, his brow knit in confusion as he struggled to follow the circuitous path of her thoughts. "What we're doing right now, Bones—talking, trusting, being open—that's how we'll make this work. We'll make this work..and it's going to be epic."

"I know," she said, cutting him off. "I know...and I feel so stupid because we just talked about this...but, it's—it's so hard to explain, Booth. Knowing what I need to do and actually doing it where emotions are concerned...I thought—I thought that if I made my peace with the fact that I loved you and told you, and we finally realized that we were in the same place at the same time and felt the same way about one another and there was nothing to stop us from being together, that I should be able to trust that...trust you...and I do. I do, and I want to...and I do. But, what I don't know if I can do is if I trust myself. And...and I know...I _know _that if I can't trust myself that none of this is going to work—but, I don't know what to do about that. I don't know what to do or how to fix it, but I know I need to, and I know I have to try harder than I did so that...so that we're together, and we can—"

"Stop," he whispered, suddenly cutting her off as he leaned towards her and pressed a kiss to her lips. When he pulled away, she opened her mouth to speak, but he shook his head to cut her off. "Bones, please...baby. Just for a moment, just—stop, okay? You're rambling, and I can't keep up with you sometimes on my best day, let alone when I'm hungover and inside you. So, just—please...I'm begging ya here...just...for me...just stop for a minute, okay?"

"If I stop," she began slowly, hesitation again causing her voice to waver. "If I stop...and I don't fix this, I'll break us, Booth. I'll screw up and break us and things...our chance. It'll be gone." She stopped and sighed before she finally raised her anxious gaze to meet his. "We were lucky enough to get a second opportunity after that night at the Hoover. We almost missed it, and but for you possessing more foresight and tenacity than me, we almost missed it again, Booth. Even...even if the universe contains infinite possibilities and outcomes, even I'm certain that no outcome between us would be lucky enough to manifest the possibility of occurring a third time when we've already had two chances to make things right and...and to make things work between us."

"We're not gonna miss anything, Bones," he said, his voice low and even as he spoke. "We're here, alright? We're not missing anything. We're gonna be fine. But you've gotta have faith, Bones. Faith in me, faith in youself, and faith in us—I know it's hard for you to let go of that runaway freight train of logic, but you've just gotta. Logic and reason aren't gonna get us there, babe. Faith and trust—that's the ticket on this ride, okay?"

"You've always had a stronger belief in things...even me...that I ever had." Brennan laughed softly at the irony of his words. "But, you...as much as you know me, Booth, I know myself pretty damn well, and unless I know how to fix me, then I will break this thing that's between us. And, if there's one thing that I know...one thing my dream taught me, it was how fragile it is...and how fragile I am if I lose it. So, I can't...I can't let that happen. I can't become the woman I was in that dream. She was anger and brittle and sad—so sad, and so lonely."

"You're not her," he said, the simplicity of his statement startling Brennan a bit as he looked at her. "You're _not _her. And there's nothin' to fix, Bones. You're not broken. You're not."

"You don't know that," she countered. "You can't know that."

"Yes, yes, I do," he volleyed back. "I do know it, Bones...just as sure as I know my own name or I know that—well, remember, Bones? Daisies, daffodils, jupiter? I know those things because I know you...maybe even better than you know you sometimes, and if there's one thing I know, baby, well I know _this_—you aren't her, and you never could be."

"How do you know that?" Brennan said, a bit of hope creeping into her voice. "How _can _you know that?"

"I just do," he said with a smile softening his handsome face. "Believe me, Bones—I just do."

"Booth," she said, her face tightening as some of the frustration she was feeling at his stubborn insistence crept through to furrow her brow. "This isn't something that I can just take at face value, here...I have to be careful—_we _have to be careful...so, so careful. Because...I can't take a gamble on this point. I can't risk it. I can't risk us. I can't take that risk and lose you. Not again. I just can't."

"Bones," he sighed. "Listen...this...us...how we feel about each other. Love, Bones? It's always a risk. Why do you think it's so fucking awesome? It's because the risk to lose everything is so great...the potential price is so high."

"But—"

"No," he said again, cutting her off. "No...you're not winning this point, Bones, so just deal with it. I'm right, and you're wrong, and if you say you trust me, trust us...then do it. You gotta do it, baby. I know you're scared, alright? And I know you're trying to figure out how to do what you need to do to make things work, but I swear, Bones—you're already doing it."

She stared at him for a moment and then furrowed her brow as she said, "Explain."

"It's simple," he smiled. "You're here...with me...now. That's all you need to do to make things work between us—"

"No," she said again, shaking her head in a way that caused Booth to sigh in exasperation at her stubbornness himself. "No—you're wrong, Booth. There's more to it than that..."

"Why?" he asked, his voice again sharp. "Why does there have to be more?"

"Because!" she suddenly snapped. "You didn't see what I did to you...in my dream. I used you...I just...that angry woman in that dream took the best things about you and used them up, and in the end, she wasn't even happy. She was scared and alone and lost, Booth. She...no, _I _ruined you for no serviceable purpose...and if that happened then, it can happen again. I'll hurt you. I'll take what I can from you, beat you down so I don't feel so scared around you anymore, and all in the name of controlling a situation that won't make either one of us really satisfied or happy in the end—at least, not really."

"But, Bones," he whispered, pressing his lips together firmly as he struggled to figure out how to explain himself. "It's not like that. You can't take anything from me that I'm not willing to give you." A soft smile broke across his face. "And, Bones—I can't take anything from you that you aren't ready to give to me. What happened in that dream...it wasn't real. It was...just a dream. But this..." He gently squeezed her hips with his fingertips. "This is real. _This _is us. Not that dream, baby. _This_." He swiveled his pelvis forward and thrust up into her, eliciting an involuntary moan from her. "This is real? Feel that? I know you do. I know you can feel me...so that's how you know—that's how you know what's real and what isn't."

"But...whether it's the dream or not," she finally groaned, still fighting him with everything she had although an insistent voice was growing louder and louder in her mind to just give in and enjoy what she could as he moved in her. "I'm still the constant, Booth. I'm real...and my insecurities are real...and my actions are real...and I don't know how to change to fix things."

"What if it's not a question of you changing yourself in order to make things the way you want them?" he asked, not sure in that moment what exactly he meant by his own words. "You've had your hands on the wheel all these years, Bones—hell, both of us have—and all that control and intent, all those plans and lines, look at where it's gotten us? What if the real answer is that we need to let it ride—you know, to just let things happen, and not to overthink it? Let things take their course, and...you know, let us see if we can let the things that happen change us, if we need changing, instead of trying to change ourselves to suit the things we want to happen." He paused, narrowing his eyes as he thought about what he'd said. "Give it a chance, Bones. Give us a chance. Don't worry about changing. Let's give ourselves a chance to enjoy where we are right now, huh?"

She paused for a minute as she studied him and then she realized that he was right. _Booth's right_, she thought. _About this? He's always been right. _"I do tend to get into trouble when I overthink things, don't I?" she said, a small smile tugging at the edge of her lips, and for the first time since she'd awakened, her voice seemed less heavy, and more carefree—at least as carefree as a woman like Brennan ever was.

"Heh," he chuckled. "We both have, Bones. I've done more than my share of that over the years. For a guy that leads with his gut in every other part of his life, I've out-thought myself more times than you can shake a stick at."

"Are you saying I get you to think more?" Brennan asked, arching an eyebrow at him, the light teasing in her voice becoming more and more pronounced with each word she spoke.

"Yeah," he laughed. "You do. And most of the time, that's a good thing. But sometimes there's a time for thinking, and sometimes I think there's a time for doing, Bones, and right now? Mmmmm. It's a time to be doing something, I think." Booth waggled his eyebrows as a smile broke across his face, and he shifted inside her again.

"Oh?" she asked, the lightness of her mood seeming to bolster her confidence as well when she felt him move inside her "Why's that again?"

"You know why," he murmured. "You want what I have to give you...and I sure as hell want what you have to give me. So, come on."

"Come, huh?" she quirked her eyebrow again at his words.

"Damn right," he said, punctuating his reply with a light upward thrust of his hips.

"Mmmm," she said. "I think...I think you might just have to show me," Brennan told him quietly. She stopped, and her gaze became serious for another moment as she said softly, "You're going to have to prove it, Booth."

"Hmmm?" he asked, half distracted once more by the feel of her. "Huh?"

"I said," she repeated. "That...you're going to have to prove it to me—prove to me that you're..." She gazed deeply into his brown eyes, which burned dark but glittered in the half-light like points of obsidian. "Prove to me that you're willing to take what I can give you."

"Yes," he answered, his voice low as he thrust up into her once more before rolling them over. "I want to," he said.

"Really?" she blinked in surprise.

"Oh, God, Bones," he groaned. "How can you even ask me that? Always, baby. _Always_."

"_Ohhhhh_," she moaned.

"How about you?" he grinned. "You all in?"

"Yes," she said, quietly, but firmly, as she let her hands roam from his bony hips and narrow waist, up the side of his chest to palm his pecs, then up and over his shoulders, her fingers cupping his round, firm deltoids again before letting her hands skate down the broad plane of his back to finally rest where his lower back met his muscular ass. "All in...I'm...I'm all in...Take it," she said. "Take me. Now. We're here. Let's do it. Take, Booth...take."

Booth's mouth fell open as he thought to reply, but at hearing her words, he knew no words were needed. They were, he knew, in a space beyond words, in a domain bounded only by touch, and sound, and movement.

And so he began to move.

He looked down at her, her cheeks apple-shaped once more as a smile curved the corners of her lips, and he felt himself drawn into the depths of her gray-green eyes, which seemed to have darkened to the color of the surf on a cold winter's day. Booth rolled his hips back, withdrawing a little before pressing into her, slowly but firmly as he felt her silky folds part for him and a low, breathy sigh pass from her lips. He looked down at where they were joined, where his dark, nearly black curls met her warm, red-tinged auburn ones as he anchored himself as deeply inside of her as he could. He drew his hips back and entered her, again and again, settling into a natural rhythm, his movements set by the cadence of her rising sighs and peaking moans, the gentle swaying of her breasts reminding him, for a brief instant, of a metronome. Soon, however, her breaths and moans became ragged as his rhythm became more irregular, a subtle signal that the threads of his self-control were beginning to unravel as he felt himself swallowed up in the feeling of her.

"You were wrong about one thing, Bones...just one. There's no taking here," he whispered as he stroked into her, a little surprised that the thought he'd formed in his mind had managed to make itself heard in an intelligible form. "Not between us. No taking—only giving...only giving..."

Her hands fell away from his round, muscular backside as she felt her release begin to slowly coil behind her navel, tightening and becoming more intense with each of his powerful strokes. She skimmed her fingers over his taut forearms, hesitating briefly as he drew back and jerked into her with a particularly hard, grunt-punctuated stroke.

"_Ohhhhh, Booooth_," she moaned, gasping as she felt him move his hands, one at a time, to pin hers to the mattress. "Ohhh, God..."

"No taking," Booth whispered again. "Just us..." he punctuated his words with another stroke. "You," he told her, his voice rough with want. "Me," he said, edging out of her. "Us," he continued, moving his hips forward as he pushed back into her. "Just us...giving, Bones. Only giving..."

He leaned forward, pressing her hands against the sheet as he moved in and out of her, each stroke slowly building in intensity and speed with each thrust me made, coming harder and following faster on the heels of the one that came before it. She saw his forehead crease as he intensified his focus, seemingly putting every ounce of mental and physical energy he possessed into possessing her and bringing them both to the brink of release.

Booth suddenly slowed his movements, briefly pausing as he looked down on her admiringly. "Bones," he whispered, his mouth hanging open for a moment as if he were going to say something else, then released her hands. "Balance," he said. "Equals...in everything. You...me...equals, remember?"

She nodded and smiled at his words. A thought occurred to her, and she used her free hands to her advantage. Snaking them around his waist, she let her palms caress the muscular swell of his ass. She pressed the palm of each hand into his muscles, and the movement obviously surprised him slightly as his slow movements almost stopped altogether. Brennan smiled evilly as she took advantage of his surprise and rolled them onto their sides.

After a minute of shifting and slight adjustments, she lifted her gaze to meet his and nodded. "Now."

"Huh?"

"_Now_," was all she could say, her impending orgasm coming closer and closer to her grasp.

"Oh—" he grunted. With a wink at her, he stroked the curve of her hip with one hand as he brushed an errant lock of sweat-damp hair from her forehead with the other. "Now?" he asked again, although such a question was hardly needed.

She merely nodded sharply once in response, but punctuated her response as she took her right hand and reached around to the exposed side of his body that she could touch. Raking her nails along his skin, she felt him shiver slightly at her efforts.

"Oh, God, Bones," he whispered, sucking a sharp breath between his teeth as he felt her gently scrape his skin. He drew his hips back slightly and pressed into her, closely watching her face as he re-established a rhythm, pulling her tightly against him each time he rocked into her. A long sigh escaped his lips as he felt himself begin to spend towards release. He couldn't help but smile as Brennan's leg, which had been loosely draped over the back of his thighs, curled more tightly around him, pulling them even closer as she met each of his strokes with one of her own.

"We get there together," she said quietly, her last word swallowed in a gasp as their bodies met in a soft, slow-rolling collision that sent a pulse of pleasure surging through her as Booth's hips ground against her with a just enough delicious pressure to return her to the very edge of release.

"Together," he mumbled in agreement, reaching his hand between them and, finding her swollen bud glistening with the moisture of her desire, began to make small, tight circles with his thumb as they continued to rock against one another. "Yeah, baby—together.

"Ohhhh," she moaned at feeling the twin sensations of him moving inside of her and his calloused thumb pleasuring her. "Ahhhh...ohhhh...ohh, my God..._Booooothh_..."

Booth rolled his hips back, sliding over Brennan's high thread-count sheet as he thrust hard into her. He heard her gasp a couple of times as he punctuated his thrusts with a last twirl of his thumb on her sensitive flesh. "That's it, baby," he whispered with a smile as she craned her head back against the pillow, exposing the long curve of her neck as he leaned in, pressing a wet, sucking kiss against her smooth, ivory skin as he felt her moan vibrate against his lips as he felt her body tighten and then shatter, quivering around him as she rode out her release. "God, I love you," he whispered into her neck as he, too, broke, thrusting into her one last time as his warm seed pulsed out of him. "I love you, Bones...so much...so much...so very much."

Slowly, looking up at him, as she felt his warmth course into her, Brennan couldn't help but smile as she nodded and said, "I know...and I do, too, Booth. I love you...and trust you...and I know...I think, that is, we'll be okay."

"Yeah?" he blinked at her happily. "And, how's that again?"

Nodding slowly, "Because...if we're together...than anything's possible...including me taking something this important on a little bit of faith."

Booth could only offer her a chuckle in response before he tightened his grip around her and pulled her close for another kiss.

* * *

><p><em><span>Epilogue - Six Months Later<span>_

"Special Agent Booth," the reporter said, extending her hand with a smile. "It's good to see you again."

Booth arched his eyebrow and shook her hand.

"Ms. Finn," he said, suppressing a smirk as he recalled chastising her five years earlier about using the Federal Bureau of Investigations as a springboard for a Hollywood screenwriting career. "Welcome to the Jeffersonian."

"Please," she said with a flash of her thin, perfectly-waxed brown eyebrows. "We're old friends, aren't we? Call me Trisha."

"Okay," he laughed, stuffing his hand back in his pocket as he led her through the sliding glass door at the entrance to the Jeffersonian Medico-Legal Lab. "How long have you been with the _Washington Post_?" he asked as she followed him past the forensic platform and towards Brennan's office in the corner of the large room.

"Six months," she replied. "Since the last time we met, a lot's changed for me...some bad, but mostly good. I left the FBI three years ago and took a job at the crime desk at the _Ventura County Star_. After a year, I landed a spot with the _L.A. Times_. But, after I was there for about a year, I got kind of tired of L.A., and heard through a contact that the _Post _was looking for someone. A few phone calls were made, a few emails exchanged...a resume was submitted, and then...well, I got lucky and the rest is history."

"Mmmm," Booth said noncommittally as he gestured for her to walk into Brennan's office. Finn glanced around the warmly-lit space, arching an eyebrow at the tribal-looking furnishings and knick-knacks on the bookshelves. "Have a seat," he said, jerking his chin in the direction of the couch.

"Okay," she said with a faint smile, setting her purse down on the floor and pulling a spiral-bound notebook out as she crossed her legs. "So, you know the reason I'm here? My editor told me he told you that he thinks there's at least one good story in this case about the doctor you investigated...maybe a series, depending on how things go."

"A series?" Booth asked, clearly impressed. "Wow, really?"

"Yeah," Finn said with a firm nod. "Depending on how the first feature goes, it appears to be a fascinating story. So, what I figured is that we'd start with you just telling me whatever pops into your mind about this case…the Lauren Eames case." She flipped a couple of pages in her notebook as if checking her notes, then looked back up at Booth before slowly uncrossing and recrossing her legs with a slight shrug of her shoulders. "She was a doctor, correct?" she asked, sliding her pen along the cleft between her lips.

"Right," Booth said. _Awwwww, crap, _he thought, clearing his throat as he stood in front of Brennan's bookshelf, his hands in his pockets as he stared at an imaginary scuff mark on his newly-shined wingtips. _She's not really gonna do this now, right? Not in here. Not now. Come on, Finn. Pretend to be a professional, even if only for a half-hour._

"Yes, she was regarded as the Beltway's best cardiac surgeon." He looked up at her and quirked his eyebrow as he watched her lips close around the top of her ballpoint pen. "Actually, she was one of the best heart surgeons on the whole East Coast. Very smart, really dedicated, extremely talented. She published all over the place, and as I've understood it was always at the top of her game, giving papers at conferences and making other public presentations as such...to say nothing of her charity work. She was...she was an incredible person on paper...and a hell of a cardiac surgeon, you know? She seems to have been much sought-out for consultations in tough cases and stuff like that."

Finn shifted her hips on the couch and turned towards him, letting her eyes survey him from head to toe, her gaze hesitating as it came to his waist and settled on his Cocky belt buckle. "Hmmm," she murmured as her eyes darted back to meet his. She reached up and tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear and licked her lips, then smiled at him and said, "So she was one of those all-work-and-no-play types? That's always a pity. I mean, you've gotta leave time to cut loose, let it all hang out, right? I mean, what's the point of working your fingers to the bone if you don't take the time to hit happy hour. Or, maybe, candlelit-dinners followed by a little dirty dancing, if you know what I mean. That kind of stuff when you go off the clock. You know what I mean?"

_I would sooner cut off my own arm than dignify that little number with anything approaching a response, _Booth thought. He glanced towards the office door and wondered where his partner was as his eyes then darted to the clock on Brennan's desk.

"Kind of sad, isn't it?" he told Finn, reaching up and running his left hand through his hair, unnerved by the prospect that Brennan would walk in, observe Finn's obvious flirting, and launch into some form of outer orbit. He resolved to steer the conversation back onto the road from which it threatened to veer. "It actually made the investigation more difficult, the fact that she was a bit isolated, socially. Usually, you can go and interview people's friends and family to find out more about how they lived, day-to-day, what they did in their spare time and so forth. This woman didn't really have many friends, and she worked all the time. She didn't actually, you know, have much of any spare time as far as we can tell. She lived a very...solitary life, it seems."

"Oh," she said, not breaking eye contact with him, and instantly both knew they were no longer talking about the case. "That _is _unfortunate." She smiled and sat back on the sofa, then crossed and uncrossed her legs in a way that demonstrated how perilously short a length her navy-blue skirt had been tailored to. "A real shame...or pity, even."

Suddenly, a shuffling outside Brennan's office caught their attention. Both sets of eyes turned towards the door, and Booth's head swiveled and his eyes lit up as he finally spotted his tardy partner. For her part, Brennan seemed nonplussed as she walked into the office, peeling off her latex gloves and tossing them into the wastebasket near the door as she approached Booth and stared at him in askance.

"Bones!" he blurted out as he watched her quickly unbutton her blue lab coat and hang it on the coat rack next to the bookshelf. Finn's eyes narrowed at the arrival of the famous forensic anthropologist, and she smirked as Brennan turned around to face her.

"Dr. Brennan," she said, standing up from the sofa and taking a couple of steps towards Brennan before extending her hand in greeting, retreating somewhat from her earlier casual manner she'd used with Booth.

"Yes," Brennan said with a brow firmly knit in confusion. She ignored Finn's extended hand and turned to Booth. "Who is she, and why is she in my office, Booth?"

Booth cocked his head as he walked over to her and, placing his hand on her hip, kissed her gently on the mouth. Her scowl softened as soon as her lips met hers and she returned his kiss, a quiet hum sounding in her throat before he pulled away.

"Come on, Bones," he said. "We talked about this—you know, how the _Post _was sending somebody over...a reporter—to interview us about the Lauren Eames case."

"We've met before, Dr. Brennan," Finn said, interjecting herself in their conversation, her voice edged with a sharpness that tottered between disappointment and annoyance. "Don't you remember?"

For a split second, Brennan studied Finn's face as if she expected to see some other blonde journalist in her place. Brennan's eyes quickly darted back to Booth as she gave him a blank. if not slightly panicked look.

_It's not her_, Brennan told herself as she tried to remain calm. _It wasn't real...and I didn't lose him. It's not here...I'm not Lauren Eames...and whoever this woman is...she isn't Booth's girlfriend. I have trust...I have faith. So_—

"No," Brennan said insistently with a shake of her head. "I'm quite sure I've never met you before, Miss Finn."

"It's been a few years," Finn said with a faint smirk, "but surely you recall when you and Agent Booth here came out to Los Angeles a few years ago when they found that call-girl buried in the sand at LAX? I worked that case with you. You really don't remember? I was the Special Agent assigned by the L.A. field office to work with you two for the duration of the investigation."

Suddenly, Finn's face clicked in Brennan's mind, and she gave the blonde woman a sharp nod. "Yes, of course," she said simply as she began to walk towards her desk. "I remember you now. You're the breathtakingly opportunistic agent that was always harping on about me taking a look at some screenplay or other such thing you'd been working on."

"Okay, wait," Booth said, rubbing the stubble on the bottom of his chin as he stepped into the space between them. He saw Finn's eyes widen a little and the rosiness drain quickly from her cheeks the moment she saw the slim white gold band on his left ring finger. "Let's start over, alright? Dr. Brennan, this is Ms. Finn of the Washington Post. Ms. Finn, this is Dr. Brennan of the Jeffersonian, whom I'm sure you remember is my partner."

Whatever color was left in Finn's cheeks completely faded as she heard Booth's introduction. Brennan noted how she blanched and stepped forward to extend her hand. Finn's eyes skated from the anthropologist's extended hand to a framed photo on her bookshelf—showing Booth and Brennan, each dressed in khaki shorts, T-shirts, sunglasses, and hiking boots, with her seated on a boulder between Booth's legs, his arms wrapped tight around her waist, and his lips pressed against the side of her forehead—and back again to Brennan.

"Very well," Brennan said as she smirked at Booth and then turned to the reporter. _I'll deal with you later, _she thought evilly as she shot her husband a look of warning that made it clear he'd pay later when they were alone. "It's very nice to see you again, Ms. Finn," Brennan said with a crooked smile. "So, you're here to talk about the Eames case? How may I be of assistance to you?"

* * *

><p>~The End~ (for scenario #7)<p>

-TBC- (for the series)

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><p><strong><span>AN: **_Hmmmm. So, like Jack Nicholson said in Chinatown, "How 'bout them apples?"_

_Did you like that one? We hope you did. _

_However, because—despite the outwardly cocky tendencies that the noisier member of Dharmasera seems to have _***Lesera128 **smacks **dharmamonkey **in the back of the head*_—we really do want feedback. _***dharmamonkey** rubs the back of her head and mutters under her breath about **Lesera128** being the shameless one*

_What did you think of this one?_

_We've got another VBI written. "He Said, She Said" is a genuine Dharmasera first—a 100% first person narrative, written in alternative Booth/Brennan points of view. It's sexy and, in our opinion, friggin' hilarious. Episode tag "Harbingers in the Fountain." Basic concept is that B&B go out for drinks to celebrate his return to FBI active status. They wake up the next morning in his bed, both of them half-clothed, neither of them remembering a thing about what happened the night before. The first part of "He Said, She Said" is basically ready to post. If, you know, people are interested. Which interest only really registers on the writers' radars when we hear from our readers. ("Blackmail your readers?" ... "Yes." ... "We don't like it." ... "We're fairly certain you're not supposed to.") _*snort*

_So, put that very nice, new and improved and bright-and-oh-so-sparkly review button to good use. Let us know what you thought of "Pyrite."_

_Yeah, that's it. That button down there. You know the one. Yes, that one. Give it a go._

_Thanks!_


	27. 27—He Said, She Said, Pt I

**A Very Bad Idea**

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><p><strong>By<strong>**:** dharmamonkey & Lesera128  
><strong>Rated<strong>**: **M  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>**: **Ummm, nope, we still don't own anything. We have, however, apparently become squatters in the sandbox that we crashed... so, umm... yeah. There we go

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><p><strong>AN****: **_This is our eighth (wow_―_holy crap!) "Very Bad Idea" scenario, and we decided to get a little experimental. Well, or more experimental. (We've been experimenting a lot lately.) This little number, "He Said, She Said," is 100% first person. It started out as a kernel of an idea about an AU beginning to_ **dharmamonkey**_'s favorite episode, "Harbingers in the Fountain."_ **Lesera128**_ wrote a blurb of Brennan brainspace, then asked _**dharmamonkey**_ to respond in appropriate Boothy fashion, to which she then responded, and so on. That's how this piece was written. We think it yielded a highly amusing result. We're very curious to know what you all think._

**Unf Alert**: _This story is about two people with a raging attraction who wake up next to each other in bed, not entirely clothed. You do the math, people. This story might contain unfness. In fact, most of you are hoping it does. And, because the ladies of Dharmasera Inc. never wish to disappoint our audience, we can guaran-effin-tee you it will. So, if you don't like reading about that sort of thing, or shouldn't be, STOP READING, DAMMIT! Okay, for the rest of you, please proceed with all due haste to read this fic. Just don't forget to leave a review. (It's like tipping. Not required, but it keeps the staff motivated, attentive, prompt and un-surly.)_

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><p><strong>VIII. He Said, She Said, Part I<strong>

**Pertinent Details on Scenario #8****: **Set during the beginning of episode 5x01: "Harbingers in the Fountain."

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><p>When I woke up, I didn't know how I knew it, but I did―I knew as soon as I opened my eyes that there was a very, <em>very <em>small chance that it was going to be a good day.

I came to my conclusion by computing several different variables, the first of which being that I didn't wake up in my normal position. And, I'd apparently fallen asleep on my arm and caused it to go temporarily numb from lack of circulation. Also, for some reason, I was extremely thirsty. Reaching out as I tried to address the first issue, as soon as I blindly groped for the bottle of water that I kept on my nightstand and couldn't find it, I had to open my eyes and shift further from where I was cocooned in the welcome soft warmth of my bed. As I moved, I was still in that groggy space that exists between wakefulness and sleep as I rolled over, the flat sheet that covered me fell off partway in the process, and fumbled for the water bottle that I kept on my nightstand so I don't have to get up in the middle of the night if this very circumstance of mid-slumber thirst transpires. Additionally, like most people who've awakened before they were done sleeping, I had a keen desire to stay asleep for a good while longer as I tried to awake only so much as I needed to slack my thirst.

It was annoying, that...waking up because I was thirsty. But, the thirst I'd felt―indeed, that was probably the craving that had pulled me from the deep slumber in which I'd been happily resting in the first place was so keen that I doubted I'd be able to get a restful sleep unless I did something about it. In short, I knew I'd never be able to go back to sleep unless I got a drink of some liquid, preferably the refreshing water that I wanted badly enough that I'd roused myself from what was, I initially thought, a fairly refreshing slumber.

So, ever the practical individual, I knew it was a better idea to find out whatever in the hell had happened to my water bottle, procure a replacement if necessary, drink the fluids my body was so badly craving for some odd reason, and then return to my bed so that I could resume sleeping as soon as possible. It was a well-thought out and logical plan that I congratulated myself upon as soon as I'd decided that was the plan of action I would follow. However, it was to be instantly thwarted as soon as I cracked open my eyes and realized the now very obvious reason as to _why _I couldn't find my water bottle.

I couldn't find my water bottle because there was no water bottle to be found sitting upon the bedside table at which I was now staring. And, the reason, I quickly came to apprehend―in that disoriented and groggy way with which one sometimes has to deal as the brain reluctantly begins working harder after it's been happily doing nothing more than ensuring basic life sustaining functions (like making certain my heart kept pumping blood throughout my circulatory system and my lungs kept inhaling and expelling oxygen)―as to why there was no water bottle on that table was because it wasn't my nightstand. That caused a wave of disorientation to flood over me as the room spun, and I tried to figure out where I was and what in the hell had happened.

It's not like I've never woken up in a strange place before, because if I said that, I'd be lying. In the course of the varied experiences that comprise my anthropological career, between grad school and my fieldwork, there have been quite a few times where I was lucky just to wake up knowing my own name, let alone where I was. On occasion, after imbibing too much of some type of alcoholic beverage, inevitably it's occurred that I've woken up not knowing where I'd passed out for the night after hazy memories of what had culminated in said passing out to begin with. I like to think that what separates me from other people who find themselves in such a laughably cliche scenario is how I conduct myself when I've realized that I've somehow stumbled into such a set of circumstances once more. So, this time, I decided that I was not going to panic or yell or scream or do anything else that other females might do in such a situation. I was better than that, and I was going to act like it.

Calmly, I took several deep breaths and then steeled my resolve as I decided that the next thing I needed to do after staying calm was to sit up. Fortunately, my body was of a temperament to grudgingly comply with my mental commands that I both wanted and needed my physical body to in a vertical position. Shifting in bed, because I realized I _was _in a bed of some sort―which already made this one better than about six other different but oh, so similar situations I'd found myself in over the years―things didn't start to get bad until the vertical position I forced my body into made my worldview spin. The spinning made my queasy stomach start to feel even worse. And, for a very long minute, I was afraid the nausea I felt was going to result in me vomiting all over the strange bed in which I'd found myself. But, eventually, after several calming and cleansing breaths, the nauseous feeling that had settled over me began to subside and eventually went away.

It was at that point that the dryness of my mouth―and, indeed the thirst that had first awakened me―reasserted itself with a cruel vengeance. I started to glance around and look for some type of liquid that I might be able to use to pacify my thirst when I became aware of a few fact: that while I was in bed, I hadn't gone to sleep wearing the same clothes I last remembering having worn.

Okay, to be fair, the more accurate statement was that I wasn't wearing _all _of the same clothes I remembered having worn the previous day. A quick check of my current inventory of apparel found that while my bra and casual square-neck teal colored knit blouse were still in place, at some point, I'd lost the black wrap skirt and black leather slides that I'd been wearing when I went with Booth to the Founding Fathers. In fact, on the bottom half of my body, I discerned that I was now only wearing a rather non-descript pair of white cotton string bikinis that I often favored for comfort over other more impractical but also more aesthetically pleasing panties.

_What in the hell happened to me?_

Pursing my lips, I took several more breaths as I realized that the nausea I'd been fighting earlier was likely to return if I made any sudden movements. But, the choice as to whether I would move or not was suddenly taken out of my hand when when a muffled sound that emanated from my left caused my head to snap in that direction.

_Damn it. Not good. Not good at all. _

_Don't throw up. Don't puke. Don't throw up._

I chanted those simple words for a while, and after a time, they seemed to have some inexplicable calming effect on my queasy stomach. At last, when it was clear that I was no longer in any imminent danger of breaking into a disgusting round of dry heaves, I finally hazarded a small glance in the direction from which the strange sound had originally come. Looking down, I saw the distinct form of a lump situated underneath the unfamiliar grey duvet. At first, what I'd assumed to be a stack of pillows was now, in fact, no stack of pillows because it was moving. My brow furrowed as the groans became louder, culminating only when a rather disheveled head of dark brown hair popped up from among the pillows and blankets where he'd obviously been sleeping until I shifted in bed.

It was at that moment, as the head slowly turned around and took inventory of things in much the way I imagined I'd looked a few minutes earlier, that I felt my first tendency to want to act in a stereotypical way ( i.e., panicking) reassert itself as the familiarity of the haircut that I saw tugged something free in my mind.

Brunette.

I was looking at a brunette... a brunette with a short haircut.

Spiky. Bedhead. Adorable in its dishevelment under what would be any other circumstances, particularly since it reminded me a tremendous amount of Booth's haircut in that moment.

And, then...the eyes. The eyes opened and blinked at me several times before I realized why the haircut I'd seen on my bedmate seemed to remind me so much of my erstwhile partner's normal coiffure. The answer was really quite simple as I tried to understand why the haircut was so familiar to me.

The haircut I'd just seen wasn't just _like _Booth's. No, that wasn't where the familiarity came from―it was more than that...much, _much _more. In fact...the fact of the matter was, the haircut I saw was more than just like my partner's haircut because well...simply put―

It _was _Booth's.

And, at that particular moment, I admit it―despite my promise not to do it...I finally did it anyway.

I did.

I panicked.

And, the explanation as to why I panicked was quite simplistic as well. I panicked because, well―apparently, someway, somehow...I'd ended up in bed with my partner.

I'd ended up in bed with Booth.

_Oh, damn...what did...what did I do? What did we do? _

_I mean, seriously...just..._

_What the hell?_

* * *

><p>I woke up in a sweat. No, not one of those cold sweats that happen when you wake up all freaked out from some bad dream. Nope—I'm talking about a plain old sweat of the old-fashioned, I'm-hot-as-hell variety. I could feel it on the back of my neck and, as I rolled onto my side, felt a bead of sweat dribble down the middle of my back.<p>

I was burning up.

Quirking open an eye, I quickly figured out why I was sweating like some type of overworked farm animal. It was no wonder, really, because I was curled up in the comforter, snug as a bug in a rug—or what Parker calls a blanket burrito (where does this kid come up with these things?)—but with my clothes on. And even with my window unit on full blast, my bedroom's never gotten _that _cold...especially during the summer months like it was now. Plus, the fact that I had so many of my clothes on didn't help things―errr...or, well, at least I still had _some _of them on...

As soon as I was awake enough to realize I was burning up, sweating through my clothes and into the fitted light grey bedsheet under me, I quickly peeled the covers off my shoulders and looked around the room. The lights were on, which is strange because I never sleep with the lights on, and there was something weird about the way the mattress moved when I rolled over. I knew by the way the bed squished beneath me that there was someone next to me—that I...well, I wasn't alone in my bed. Wait—what the fuck? I wasn't alone in my bed. _I wasn't alone in my bed_...and, oh damn. Next, I turned around...and that's when I saw her.

_Bones_.

For several seconds, I swore my heart had stopped as I tried to make certain that my eyes weren't playing tricks on me. That's not to say I've had hallucinations or anything since they cracked open my noggin and scooped out the part of my brain that had gone rotten...but you never know. The umpteen pamphlets the damn docs kept giving me all did warn about side effects. So, even though things had gone pretty well for me in my recovery, it wasn't like there wasn't that small voice at the back of my head―imaginary, not real, thank you very much―reminding me that maybe I was finally having a setback and the hallucination of my partner, sitting half-naked in my bed, was the next curve ball that the old cranium of mine had decided to lob my way.

So Bones was there, in my bed, wearing a knit teal-colored top and a pair of panties―which in and of itself was surprising enough―and also made me lean towards thinking she was real and not a hallucination after all. But, to top it all off, she looked back at me with this expression on her face that scared the immortal crap out of me. Her pale green eyes stared back at me, wide with something that looked like a mix of shock and confusion, which happened to be the _exact _way I saw a white-tailed buck stare back at me one time when he got caught in the glare of my headlights while I was driving late one night on a state highway on my way down from Buffalo to Pittsburgh.

I'm not altogether sure how long we sat there, each of us just staring at the other, but in those seconds or fractions of a second, another thought crossed my mind. Maybe I wasn't hallucinating here, but that still didn't mean that I might not've conjured her up if I was asleep, right? I mean, who's to say if I was really awake or if was just dreaming again. Yeah, maybe―was this an extension of my coma dream? Was I still in a coma—and maybe what I thought had happened to me when I woke up from the coma, you know, was itself just part of the dream, like a dream within a dream, and I hadn't really woke up, but was just dreaming about having woken up, even though I was really still laying in that hospital bed—or, maybe worse, was my brain still wonky, and I'd never woken up at all but this was some weird out of body experience? It had been nearly six weeks since the surgery that took a melon-ball sized tumor out of my brain, and I'd been more than a little screwed up at first. Maybe all that stuff that had supposedly gotten better—the swelling in my brain, and all the confusion I'd had about what was real and what wasn't when I'd first come to—maybe it hadn't actually gotten any better. Was I brain-damaged? I was fairly certain I wasn't hallucinating again, but maybe I was wrong about that, too. Maybe I was seeing things again because they didn't get all of the tumor or because they'd nicked something important while they were in there digging around to get the tumor out? Could that be it, maybe?

All these thoughts were zipping through my mind as I looked at Bones, just sitting there on the bed, leaning on one arm and staring back at me expectantly with the only thing clear between us that we were waiting for the other one to speak first apparently.

Once my heart started beating again, I sat up a bit and realized that I was more than a bit of a mess. For one thing, I had a splitting headache, which was probably a good thing in the long-term since it was the first real indicator that my heart had started beating again. Even as that thought crossed my mind, my heart began to race while all those crazy thoughts rattled around my bruised brain making me feel like someone was taking a pile-driver to my temples. The next thing that poked through my mental fog was a realization that I wasn't sure where all my clothes were. I had on some of the stuff that I remembered wearing yesterday, like my green plaid boxers and my French blue button-down shirt (one of those iron-free, wrinkle-resistant kind, but the wrinkle-resistant thing didn't really work so well after I'd sweated damn near all the way through the thing as I'd slept in my blanket burrito). But my shirt was unbuttoned, kind of just hanging on me, and half of the buttons were missing. I clenched my eyes shut and tried shaking my head, as if by doing so I could clear my head so that all the weirdness would be wiped away. But all I managed to do was make that friggin' raging headache a bit worse for ten or fifteen seconds before I finally took a hint and stopped.

I glanced over towards my bathroom and saw my jeans, socks and sneakers littered on the floor, forming a messy trail from the doorway of my bedroom to the foot of my bed.

_There are my pants. But...wait. Why are my pants on the floor? And my socks. _

The traffic on the mental thoroughfares in my brain was totally congested, worse than a late Friday afternoon on the Capital Beltway, and it took a few seconds for it to register that Bones' skirt and a pair of black slip-on sandals also lay there on the floor, haphazardly scattered among my stuff.

I tried like hell to remember what had happened the night before, but the last thing I could remember was standing there at the bar at the Founding Fathers waiting for the bartender to hand me my Yuengling long-neck and Bones' Stella Artois—because, God forbid, she can't just drink a normal beer in a normal glass. After that, everything else was a complete blank.

Running my hand through my hair, which was damp with sweat and no longer crunchy the way it usually was from my hair gel—which suggested someone, either me or, well, Bones, had been mussing around with my hair, because that gel I use is pretty much good all day—I turned back to Bones with a shrug. I opened my mouth to speak, but couldn't figure out what to say―which might have been a good thing overall because it was only then, when I swallowed, that I realized how dry my mouth was.

My eyes shot down to her waist and lingered briefly on the way her white cotton string bikini framed her thighs. _Oh, God, _I thought. _She's in her underwear, in my bed, _I thought_. Oh, God. _I couldn't help but stare at those thighs, which I'd fantasized about for, well, for a damn long time, peeking on one of those rare and wonderful occasions when Bones would wear a short skirt, and my eyes traced up the line on the outside of her thigh and up to the hem of those sweet little panties. _Stop it, _I told myself. _This isn't helping. _As soon as I realized what I was doing, I cleared my throat and brought my eyes back to meet hers.

"Bones?" I whispered, still trying to figure out if this was a dream or if it was real after all.

* * *

><p>Okay, here were the facts that I knew.<p>

I was currently in my partner's bed, half-dressed, with a splitting headache, and I had no idea how I'd gotten there. Said partner was laying in the same bed with me and was also, apparently, partially clothed. Both of us seemed quite surprised to see the other, and it took both of us a while to get to the point where either one of us could actually manage to say something.

When Booth finally managed to mutter my name in this half-choked, half-cracked tone of voice, I wasn't sure what he was expecting. The way he verbalized it was certainly strange—almost as if he expected me to disappear when he spoke...or, perhaps, he wasn't certain if I was really there to even begin with...but, when he waited expectantly for me to respond, I was at a loss for what to say since I didn't know what he was really asking of me. Eventually, I settled on the standard inquiry I'd make when I needed more information.

"Yes?" I responded simply as I blinked at him.

The face Booth made when I uttered my reply seemed to be a cross between dread and even greater confusion than the look he'd worn just a minute earlier.

"Aww, damn," he muttered as he let out a breath and shook his head. "You _are _really real."

Well, of course, I'm real. What a silly statement to make.

I refrained from clucking my tongue at him as I merely repeated my prior statement by saying, "Yes, I'm quite real."

"And, you...here—with me...in my bed...I guess that's real, too?" Booth asked obviously struggling to grasp the reality of our situation as much as I was. "Uhhhhh, Bones—what in the hell are you doing in my bed?"

It was an excellent question, and one to which—at the current moment, at least—for which I didn't seem to possess an answer. To reflect my inability to answer his query, I slightly shrugged my shoulders. He again stared at me for another minute and then sighed.

Realizing in that moment that if our situation was going to require some sustained dialogue that I would need to do something about my parched throat, I tilted my head at him and said, "I'm very thirsty."

"Huh?" came the distracted response as his head bounced up to look at me as if I'd just spoke some sacred ritualistic chant in Swahili.

I refrained from frowning and merely repeated, "I said I'm very thirsty."

"Oh," he said, suddenly taking the meaning of my words. Comprehension dawned on his handsome face as he then asked, "You, uhhh―that is...do you want something to drink?"

"Water," I nodded. I moved to shift out of the bed as I said, "I can get it though."

"No!" came the sharp response as Booth's entire body tensed, and he shot up in bed like he'd just been electrocuted.

I stopped immediately and narrowed my eyes as I took the significance of his tone and body language for what it was. Arching an eyebrow, I quickly asked him, "What?"

Quickly kicking the duvet away from him, Booth stumbled to his feet, wobbling a bit, and wincing as he stood. He then pasted a smile on his face as he said, "I, uhhh—it's just that I think I could use some water, too. So, uhhh, there's no need for both of us to go. I know where it is, so I'll grab a couple of bottles from the fridge and be right back." With a slight nod at me, he then disappeared out of the room like a flash of lightning before I could even form a coherent response, let alone attempt to verbalize it.

When he was gone, I sighed as I scanned my surroundings and wondered what in the hell had happened and why Booth was acting so strangely. Given his obvious level of discomfort, I surmised that he was treating me like in this manner because he was as uncertain as to what had taken place between us as I. However, it hurt me a bit that even given that supposition that he was acting like he'd woken up with some random stranger that he'd picked up in a bar somewhere instead of his partner of almost five years. Pushing away the small amount of irrational hurt that I felt at such a happenstance, as I glanced down at the bed, I knew that, whatever had happened the previous night, it was a complete blur.

I stopped and then thought about it for another minute, and then decided that perhaps 'blackout' is the better descriptor because I had no memory of anything that had transpired last night beyond a single round of beers we'd ordered at the Founding Fathers with which I'd intended to indulge Booth's desire to celebrate his impending return to active duty with the FBI. I had no memory beyond Booth returning from the bar with my preferred glass of Stella Artois, his complaining about when would I ever learn to drink a real beer, and then him lifting his glass to mine with a toast of 'bottoms up'. There was nothing after that...nothing. I had no recollection of how we'd gotten from the Founding Fathers to his apartment or how I'd lost my skirt and sandals or how I'd ended up in his bed. And, most significantly, I had no idea how to answer the most pressing and critical question of all—if I'd ended up in Booth's bed with Booth next to me, and we both had woken up the next morning half-clothed...well, then, the next question that needed to be asked was obvious.

_Had we had sex?_

Looking down at my rumpled blouse, I tried to take stock of the situation and when Booth returned to the bedroom carrying two bottles of cold water, I was very satisfied to have reached a tentative conclusion.

* * *

><p>When Bones said she was thirsty and wanted water, all I could think was, <em>Hallelujah. <em>Because in that moment, with her staring back at me like that, as if she was analyzing and unpacking everything I said and did, down to the most minuscule muscle twitch, I needed to get the fuck out of there so I could pull my head together. Or, at the very least, try to. Once I'd concluded that I wasn't hallucinating, the reality of the situation hit me like a ton of bricks.

Bones. _In _my bed. Half-naked. In _my _bed. With _me. _In _my _bed. And I was...yep...half-naked. _What. The. Fuck._

The whole process of grabbing a couple of bottles of water from the fridge and four Advil from the bottle that I stashed on a shelf in the kitchen pantry took about ten seconds. I bought myself a little more time—maybe a minute—by taking two of those Advil myself, downing them with a chug of the cold water, and then drinking one of the bottles of water before I grabbed myself another from the fridge to replace the one I'd just downed. After about a minute and a half, I still wasn't any clearer on what had happened than I was before. But at least I felt a little less thirsty. And so I knew I needed to head back and face the music, the song currently playing in my bedroom being 'Awkward Morning After With Your Partner Serenade' (the extended Eurotrance version with the thumping, brain-splitting bass).

I walked back into the bedroom with two bottles of water grasped tightly in one hand and two Advils in the other. Bones was still sitting in the bed as she'd had been a few minutes earlier, with a confused look on her face—probably the same confused look I had on my face as I continued to rack my brain trying to remember what had happened the night before after we'd left the Founding Fathers. Frankly, I couldn't remember even leaving the Founding Fathers, so any attempt at recalling what might have happened after that point was totally futile.

"Here ya go, Bones," I said to her, handing her the bottle of water. As she accepted it from me with an almost suspicious look in her eyes, I held out my other hand and offered her the two Advils. "Come on, take these," I said. "I dunno about you, Bones, but my head is throbbing like the subwoofer in the back of a Honda Civic."

"I don't know what that means," she said, plucking the pills from the palm of my hand as she looked down at them and then nodded as she leveled her questioning gaze back up at me when she saw what I'd brought her. "But, thanks."

I sat down on the edge of the bed and twisted the cap off my bottle of water. Sure, I'd guzzled a whole one in the kitchen just a minute earlier with my Advil, but my mouth and eyes—hell, my whole damn head, really—felt like the desert. It reminded me of this awful stretch of I-10 that I'd passed through one time when I was working this case with the Phoenix field office—a really nasty interstate human smuggling case, actually—and I'd had to drive from Phoenix to L.A. The first town you hit on the way into California when you cross the border from Arizona is Blythe, which is this hideous little town on the edge of what must be the bleakest part of the Sonoran Desert that has two stoplights, a run-down Dairy Queen and a power plant and not a whole hell of a lot else. That's basically what my head felt like: fucking Blythe, California.

After I gulped down my second bottle of water, I turned my head and looked at Bones. I could tell from the way she looked back at me that she was thinking. I can always tell when she's grinding away at something in that head of hers—I really can hear the actual gears turning in there when she works a problem—and the way her pretty pale eyes were flickering, her forehead creasing ever so slightly before smoothing again, I could tell she was cogitating something furious. And I had a pretty damn good idea of what she was thinking about, because it was the same thing that was taking up most of my mental real estate at that moment.

I've been drunk before, obviously (hey, former Army Ranger here, right?) and I've been drunk enough that the details of the night before were hard to come by the following morning, but this was the first time that I'd ever truly been unable to remember anything—not a single damn moment—of a several-hour stretch of time. It wasn't a question of the night being a blur. It was a total goddamn blank, which in and of itself made me ill to think about...because that means that I lost control of my shit enough for so long that I lost that time and had no fuckin' clue as to what had actually happened. But what made me even more ill was to think about what might have happened that night during the lost time. It's not that it makes me ill thinking that Bones and I had had sex—that's unspeakably awesome, of course, and an experience I'd like to repeat, as soon and as often as possible. No, what made me want to hurl was the idea that we'd had sex, and that it had almost certainly been mind-shatteringly amazing and life-changing in every way, but that I couldn't remember a single second of it. No matter how drunk I was, I was pretty sure that I'd either have (a) fallen into bed and passed out with all of my clothes on, or (b) taken 'em off, or some of 'em off, then passed out in my bed. Well, I suppose there's option (c), passing out on my couch, which I'll have to admit has happened before, but if that had been the one that had actually happen, I think I'd still have all of my clothes on, not just some, and my back would be hurting like a motherfucker, which it wasn't, so I doubted that choice (c) had happened, but anyway...

The point is, I was at a complete loss to figure out how I'd wound up the way I'd woken up that morning—wearing nothing but my boxers and my button-down shirt, which was unbuttoned, with all but a couple of the unbuttoned buttons having gone MIA―presumably scattered somewhere on the floor between my front door and my bedroom. But the question was _how _I lost those buttons, because I sure as hell know that however I lost 'em, it wasn't because of anything I did. Hey, I'll be the first to admit I've lost a button or two on a dress shirt, but I've never, no matter how much I'd tied one on after a night of hell-raising, ever managed to pop off _all _the buttons on my shirt. The only other time I'd had the buttons ripped off a shirt was—well, suffice it to say I had help popping those babies off. The only possible way I could imagine ending up with a ruined shirt hanging open the way it was when I'd woke up that morning was that if the woman sitting next to me had tried ripping it off of me. And, whatever it was we were doing when Bones had tried ripping my shirt off of me, I'm guessing it didn't end with us passing the time playing backgammon, eating lightly-buttered popcorn, and talking about the weather forecast for the greater D.C. area.

_We had sex. _

That's all there was to it. We had sex. Me and Bones...we...Jesus...what _did _we do? We had made love—or had sex, in any case. I wasn't sure whether what we'd done was just sex, or something more since I couldn't remember what we'd done, never mind how we'd done it. Hell, I wasn't sure if I really wanted it to have been as beautiful as I'd always hoped for, because if we'd made love, and I couldn't remember it—well, that was a prospect too disturbing to think about.

But the bottom damn line was this: we'd had sex.

I mean, we _had _to have had sex, right? I suppose it was theoretically possible we'd passed out in the middle of the opener, before getting to the main act, but—well, that seems pretty damn unlikely, because if I had Bones ripping my shirt off of my chest and doing whatever other wonderful things she'd likely be doing in the process, I'm pretty sure there was no force in the universe that was capable of stopping that kind of runaway freight train of me finally getting a chance to be inside her.

We'd had sex, and I couldn't remember a goddamn second of it.

_Fuck._

Was it amazing? Mind-shattering? Life-changing? Had it been as awesome as I'd always imagined it would be? What had it been like? Was it like my dreams or something different? And...oh, shit. We had sex...which means, we crossed the line. I could feel the bile rising in my throat at the thought that we'd finally crossed the line—_The Line_, you know—and made love, but I was so fucking wasted that I couldn't remember it. And judging by the pinched, tense look on Bones' face, I had a bad feeling that the whole experience—however fucking amazing it had been—was gonna be forever written in the annals of Lost Drunken History, because she sure as hell didn't look like she had any better recall than I did...and I doubted that she was interested in reprising the moment anytime soon.

_Booth, you stupid, worthless piece of shit, _I cursed myself. _After everything—after fucking everything—you finally get what you want, and you got so fucking tanked that you can't remember a goddamn second of what just might've been the most amazing experience of your goddamn life._

I sighed.

_What. The. Fuck. _

I glanced down at my lap, at my green plaid boxers, wondering whether Bones had slid them off my hips with those slender, agile fingers of hers in the middle of an amazing encounter. I felt a flipping in my belly followed by that sharp little jerking sensation in my groin, and I knew I was getting hard just thinking about it, which of course, didn't stop me from thinking about it. I visualized those hands of hers, which I'd spent the last four-plus years watching do all kinds of things—most of which weren't arousing in the least—sliding around, across my belly and under the waistband of my boxers before she tugged them off my hips. I'd only fantasized about that little moment, hell, seven thousand times since the first day I saw her. And now, odds were good that it'd actually happened, and I couldn't remember a second of it. I closed my eyes, sighed again, and looked back up at her as I screwed the top back on my half-empty bottle of water.

_Fuck me._

* * *

><p>By the time he came back into the bedroom with my bottle of water, I felt fairly confident in the conclusion I'd reached. Something had obviously happened between us—that much was patently clear. I mean, I woke up in my partner's bed, half-dressed, with one of the worst hangovers I'd ever experienced—and that's saying something, considering the fact I've survived nights when <em>bhang <em>was the beverage of choice—and it appeared that Booth was in much the same state. So, it was clear that _something _had happened—it was just now a question of figuring out _what _had transpired between us.

Eventually, the conclusion I reached turned out to be much more simplistic than I'd originally anticipated once I'd identified the question that needed to be answered, i.e., did I have sex with Booth? After I'd considered the aforementioned evidence, the preliminary conclusion that I came to was that no, we couldn't possibly have had sex. I'm sure, somehow, someway we ended up going from a single round of beers at the Founding Fathers to passing out in Booth's bed with a few things that could've certainly ended in sex if alcohol hadn't incapacitated us. There was no conclusively persuasive evidence that we'd actually had sex. The simple fact of the matter is this...I know that if we'd had sex, I wouldn't have fallen asleep with any of my clothing on, and I feel fairly confident that if I'd finally acted on the physical attraction I've felt for Booth for so many years that I wouldn't have left him anything but naked, skin scratched by my nails, neck and shoulders nipped with small bite marks, and with a very satisfied smile on his face. His current condition didn't reflect any of those characteristics. I pride myself on my skills in bed, and so I know, logically, that if we'd had sex he sure as hell wouldn't A.) still have a shred of clothing left on that gorgeous body of his (let alone his boxers!) and B.) neither one of us wouldn't not remember anything since the act would _never _be that easily forgotten. Because, while I'm many things, when it comes to sex, forgettable isn't an adjective that I would easily apply to myself.

So, by process of elimination, rationality and logic dictate that we hadn't had sex.

I didn't know whether to be sad and disappointed or gratefully relieved at such a prospect.

Looking over at Booth, who'd begun to juggle his empty water bottle in the air as he waited for me to speak, I made a slight face at how he could fidget even in this type of...unusual circumstance. All in all, if the situation was such that Booth and I hadn't had sex, a part of me was trying to figure out how I could legitimately come up with a way to skip all of the awkward talking that I knew he'd want to do since he was still apparently more confused over what had taken place than I was at that moment. As for me, all I really wanted to do was―just as it had been ten or fifteen minutes earlier―to drink my water, make my mouth stop feeling like it was a piece of coarse-grit heavy duty sandpaper, and close my eyes so I could fall back to sleep for a few more blissful hours. It's true that Booth's bed wasn't quite as comfortable as my own, but given the circumstances, it would do quite nicely―provided I didn't have an overly emotive partner hovering over me while I tried to sleep off my hangover that was no doubt being made worse by my jetlag. After all, I'd only been back in D.C. for about a day and a half. Travel plus an overindulgence in alcohol adds up. I wanted to go back to sleep, and I wanted to do it now. But, how to make that happen?

Why I let Booth talk me into going out last night, I don't know, but when he showed up at the lab right after that strange tarot card session with Angela's psychic and gave me that really nice hug, who was I to deny his suggestion that we celebrate with a single round of beers? Especially when he said it was his treat, of course. Initially, I'd expected something might prevent us from actually making it to the Founding Fathers, particularly when Angela came into my office and interrupted my hug with Booth. She gave us each a knowing stare before she asked if she'd disturbed anything. Booth immediately bolted out of my arms, gave her a jovial smile, shook his head, and explained that we were just going to head out to change and meet for drinks at the Founding Fathers if she wanted to come.

It's funny, given the huge blank spot in my memory about last night, but I remember every single detail about our conversation with Angela to the metaphoric letter. That's not surprising, since I _do _have an eidetic memory. I remember every single word he said in that office...perfectly. I just don't remember much afterwards. Once Booth had explained to Angela what the tentative plan between us was, she gave me a look I didn't really understand, and then told both of us to 'have fun' before she gave Booth a hug and told him that they should talk about some place called the Taversham Fountain first thing in the morning. So, that was how I'd ended up getting a ride with Booth from the Jeffersonian to my apartment so I could drop off luggage and change before we made a slight detour at Booth's apartment so that he could likewise change clothes before we both made our ways back over to converge at the Founding Fathers. Like I said, I remember all that...but nothing beyond taking my first sip of Stella Artois.

But, I suppose it didn't really matter if I couldn't remember since I knew nothing monumental had happened between us because we hadn't had sex. With that bit of information firmly in my mind, I felt very comfortable focusing on more pressing needs such as the fact that now all I really wanted to do was go back to sleep. In order to achieve that goal, the question still remained—how could I make that happen as quickly and as simply as possible? As ever, I decided the direct approach was the most efficient, and thus, the best one with which to proceed given my aforementioned and outlined goals.

Booth, seeming so skittish that it was clear he was nervous about something, was still tossing the empty water bottle back and forth in the air when I asked, "So, is this a new hobby you've taken up in my absence...or a part of some type of physical therapy that you didn't tell me about?"

He looked up, clearly a bit surprised at my words. He stopped tossing the bottle and then gestured with it vaguely as he said, "Naawwww. Neither one."

"Then, perhaps you could cease and desist in your fidgeting long enough so that we can broach the issue that's obviously troubling you," I said, shifting a bit in bed. Sighing, I tried to give him as reassuring a smile as I could before I took another breath and said what needed to be said. "So, I think the simple matter put before us, i.e., the one that might be perceived as a potential source of awkwardness between us, given how we've just woken up, where, and with whom as it seems possible that we might've...engaged in some form of sexual behavior—if not intercourse, than perhaps oral or digital sex. However, while you were gone getting the bottle of water for me―and thank you, by the way, that was quite kind of you to do that for me―I've been doing some thinking, Booth. And, I believe you'll be pleased to know that there's no need for us to feel awkward with one another as I've come to the conclusion that should bring you some comfort. Despite our hangovers and any apparent memory problems...I think it's fairly safe to say that whatever happened last night...well, I don't see how we could've had intercourse. So, given that conclusion, I believe we can both relax. And, while I know it may seem like an odd request, I hope I'll have your support when I say all I really want to do is drink another bottle of water, turn back over in bed, and catch a few hours more sleep if that's okay with you."

As he stared at me, eyes wide at my long-winded diatribe, I should've known I wouldn't be going back to sleep at any time soon because he, apparently wasn't going to make this easy for me. He never does.

_Damn it._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **_Yes, we know. Evil cliffhanger. But this whole piece is gonna be like that until it's done, because we know that you want to know, did they do it? (And more importantly, are they going to do it again? This time so we can watch?)_

_Yeah, we told you it was a bit different than the way we've written these before, but we think it's pretty funny this way._

_So, what did you think of this one so far? Please, put that very nice, new and improved, bright and oh-so-sparkly review button to good use. Let us know what you thought of this first installment of "He Said, She Said."_

_Yeah, that's it. That button down there. You know the one. Yes, that one. Give it a go. Think of all the good karma you'll be racking up for yourself. _

_Thanks!_


	28. 28—He Said, She Said, Part II

**A Very Bad Idea**

* * *

><p><strong>By<strong>**:** dharmamonkey & Lesera128  
><strong>Rated<strong>**: **M  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>**: **Ummm, nope, we still don't own anything. We have, however, apparently become squatters in the sandbox that we crashed... so, umm... yeah. There we go.

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><p><strong>AN****: **_What have we here? Another set of__ mental tennis between our favorite not-a-couple couple. This chapter will start to uncover some evidence that the two of them missed in the first minutes after they awoke in Part I. _*snicker*

**Unf Alert**: _Right, so, this piece deals with two adults trying to figure out if they slept together and didn't just, well, sleep next to one another. Which means the content of their thoughts/discussions which follow might, conceivably, touch on matters of a particular nature. (If not, these people are never gonna figure this damn situation out.) So, if you don't like reading about that sort of thing, or people talking about that sort of thing, or shouldn't be , do us all a favor and stop reading. For the rest of you, read on. (Like we could stop you. Talk about a runaway freight train.)_

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><p><strong>VIII. He Said, She Said, Part II<strong>

**Pertinent Details on Scenario #8****: **Set during the beginning of episode 5x01: "Harbingers in the Fountain."

* * *

><p>Bones can squintify anything, alright? That's hardly a news flash, I know, but somehow, with her being down in Guatemala digging up Aztecs for the past six weeks, I guess I'd sort of forgotten how breathtakingly squinty she could actually be when she really gets on a tear.<p>

That said, even I gotta admit that she threw me for a loop when, after chastising me for fussing with my empty water bottle, she gave me this narrow-eyed look and launched into what has to have been the squintiest morning-after speech ever in the history of God's green earth:

"_So," she said, "I think the simple matter put before us—"_

It sounded like the beginning of one of Caroline's opening statements, not the way you'd start a conversation with someone you'd just spent the night with—never mind had sex with. As soon as she started with that little dinger, I raised an eyebrow.

"_...that might be perceived as a potential source of awkwardness between us, given how we've just woken up, where, and with whom..." _

I cringed.

Really? What's with all the pronouns? Unless she's started using the royal-we or something? Not that I'd put that past her, but still. Her voice was firm and even, but there was something totally whacked about how, well, oblique she was being about the fact that we'd just woken up, hungover as hell and half-naked and in bed...together. _"Where and with whom?" _Sure, she'd been gone six weeks, and before yesterday, the last time we'd seen each other—well, I was a bit dazed and confused after waking up from my coma—but, _really? _Come on, Bones. I didn't think things were _that _far gone between us. So, after all these years, and all we'd been through together, why all the awkward distance, clinical language and neutered pronouns? What gives? We're partners, for God's sake, and even if we're sitting here half-freakin'-naked, that still means _something_.

"_...It seems possible that we might've...engaged in some form of sexual behavior—if not intercourse, than perhaps oral or digital sex." _

How I managed to not burst out laughing when she said "digital sex," I have no idea. It was a minor miracle, to be sure. I mean, "digital sex" sounded like something that required a wireless router and an internet connection. It had to be the kind of thing I'd have to call one of the Geek Squad guys to come over and help me configure because you know I'd never get my incoming and outcoming TCP or IP_—_or whatever else fuck high-speed internet settings there are_—_right before I got too frustrated and any hard-on I had died before I'd gotten to the good stuff and actually could come because I was still on the phone with tech support somewhere in Mumbai, having been put on hold and listening to Kenny G's Greatest Hits, as recorded by the Oswego High School Philharmonic Orchestra. Not that anything like that's ever happened to me, of course, but what the fuck?

Sorry. Anyway.

Sex. Me. Bones. Sex. Digital. Oral. Sex.

_Come on. _Did we or didn't we?

Well, that was the question, wasn't it?

Easy answer: fuck yes, we did. How do I know? Because, while I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer, I'm not a moron and know perfectly well if something looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, then it's a goddamn mallard, okay? We had sex.

I knew it...and apparently it was a question she'd been mulling over, all those little Bonesy gears grinding away inside her genius brain, before reaching her beautifully well-reasoned conclusion.

"_I think it's fairly safe to say that whatever happened last night...well, I don't see how we could've had intercourse."_

Yes, we had sex. And, yeah, I wanna talk about it now, but—

Wait.

_What?_

I knew I was staring at her, blinking furiously as I tried to process what the fuck she'd just said, not just what my brain thought she'd said.

"_I don't see how we could've had intercourse."_

For those unfamiliar with Bones-speak/Brennanesque Dialect and need the closed-captioning/subtitles on that one, it would've read onscreen—Bones: 'We didn't have sex.'

Seriously? _Seriously? _

What the fuck, Bones?

It would have taken more than a minor miracle to keep the surprise from my face at hearing that little revelation of hers, so I wasn't really surprised that she narrowed her eyes at me when she saw my reaction to her little impromptu genius mouth-vomit that she cooked up there to shut me down and/or shut me up...because, well I'm not positive, but I think she was trying to squint me senseless so she could go back to sleep. In _my_ bed. Because she was tired. And had convinced herself that we hadn't actually had sex.

_Jesus Christ. _

She's gonna have to explain that one to me. Or, at least, someone is...if anyone can, you know? How can Miss Evidence-is-Truth let that rattle around in her genius brain of hers, sputter it around like a pinball rattling around in a classic Galaga Arcade game, and then have her oh-so-smarty pants neurons spit that one out to the point that she'd believe it? I mean, I'm the first one to admit that sometimes things aren't what they look like. But come on now...this one's like one of those easy "Where's Waldo" puzzles that they stick in the book just to mess with you because Waldo's twelve inches tall and standing in the middle of the page and even Pops can see him after about two seconds and _without _his reading glasses.

Because there was no goddamn doubt in my mind that we'd had sex. I'm not sure what her thought process was on that, but however sure I was before that at some point my dick had come into contact with her...well..._her_, after seeing our clothes littered in a breadcrumbs-in-the-forest kind of trail from the doorway to the bed, I was even more sure when I reached around to take care of a little itch on my back and felt it.

At first, I'd figured it was the sweaty dress shirt, which I still hadn't taken off since my efforts up until then had focused on getting us water and Advils to nurse our crushing hangovers. So I was kind of half-tuned in to what she was saying—something about wanting to go back to sleep—when I reached around to take care of that itchy little spot, and that was when I felt it.

Or, rather, _them_.

Yup. There they were. As if Bones in her panties in my bed with the rest of her clothing on my floor wasn't enough evidence for the prosecution, I was proud to hand the Exhibit F. Exhibit F as in Fucked. As in...we fucked. Because my back was all fucked up. And not fucked up because I'd thrown it out and it was hurting like a son-of-a-bitch because of muscle strain. No-sir-ee. This was fucked up as in my back was fucked up because it felt like I'd been gouged by a puma. Not that I've ever seen a puma in real-life...at least, not that I can remember. But it stung badly enough that I think if I ever did come into contact with a puma, and it tried to fuck me up, that's probably what it would feel like if it tried to shred me.

My back...shredded...by nails.

_Oh shit._

My fingers skated across a pair of long, raised scratches on the lower left side of my back. I blinked, and felt a bit lightheaded for a few moments as my slow-moving and hungover (and possibly still a little drunk) brain processed what my fingertips were feeling. I'm sure my eyes widened as I rubbed my fingers over the scratches—I've always had a terrible poker face, which is why when I was a gambler, I never spent much time playing the card tables, because the other players knew immediately when I got a bum deal or a good hand and so I usually stuck to craps—because I saw something flicker behind Bones' eyes when she turned her gaze to meet mine.

My back was fucking wrecked...and she'd done it.

_Fuck, Bones._

There was no doubt in my mind after feeling those babies that we'd both scored last night. And I'm not just talking about a field goal. No way. Definitely drove this one all the way down the field, John Elway-style. This was definitely a full-on drive ending in a touchdown in the fourth quarter to put Team Booth on top. _Go Wildcats! _And apparently some cheerleader, i.e., Bones, had done exactly that and gone all wildcat on me. She sure put the raw in _rawrrr,_ right?

_Hmmm..._

Bones. Cheerleader. Bones in a cheerleader outfit. Hmmm...not too bad a mental image there if my head wasn't pounding like a goddamn dump-truck that kept hitting the release button on its load of gravel and concrete bits and all kinds of other heavy shit that was getting deposited right in the middle of my skull. Hmmm...the cheerleader thing. That's good. I need to stow that one away for later. No point in wasting it.

Now, just so we're clear here, we're not talking just one or two scratches—I ran the side of my hand and thumb over most of my lower back and felt five or six long, raised gouges running from the bottom of my shoulder blades down my sides almost straight down to my ass. I winced a bit as my fingers lightly pressed the skin to see what hurt where...because we all know the best way to figure out if something's hurt like that, it's to smash it all to hell, right?

So I was standing in front of her, and I pressed my fingers lightly at the skin just above my ass crack, and that's when I felt it. A bruise. I'd put fifty bucks on it, even if I couldn't see it. My ass—okay, technically the skin just above my ass, but my ass all the same...my ass had a bruise that I have no fucking clue how I'd gotten. Maybe she was a biter or maybe I'd gotten my ass slapped last night—now, _that _one would surprise the hell out of me because I've (a) never been into the slapping shit and (b) I never pictured Bones as the type either. More likely, she'd gotten an aggro case of the Booth Grab-ass Grabbykins, and I was paying the freight for it this morning.

_Fuck._

What the fuck happened? Because I sure as hell didn't have those scratches or a literal pain in my ass when I left Sweets' office the afternoon before, or when we'd gone to the Founding Fathers. No way, no how. There was only one way I'd could have managed to have gotten those babies...and her name was Bones.

_Damn it. _

She had scratched the shit out of my back, and I'm no rocket scientist—hell, I barely passed physics in high school—but I am pretty damn sure that there's only one set of circumstances in which Bones would have scratched my back and bruised my ass like that. And it wasn't because we spent the night playing Scrabble or shooting the shit running our yaps. Nope. That shit only happens when people fuck. Pure, animalistic fucking_—_the type of sex that porno directors would die to catch on tape because it would be destined to become an AVN Awards winner at the annual ceremony. Best Hetero Male/Female Fuck Each Other Senseless Scene for the year is awarded to Seeley Booth and Temperance Brennan. _Damn._ Yeah, well, Bones can think whatever she wants for whatever reason she wants, but she's wrong. She's dead ass fucking wrong. After feeling those scratches on my back, and glancing down at my wrecked, mostly-buttonless French blue dress shirt and boxer shorts, there was no doubt in my mind that she was wrong.

We'd _totally_ had sex.

There was absolutely no question that we'd finally done it. Yup. It had _finally _happened. Hell had finally frozen over. Or another divine miracle had been wrought, right here in D.C. (Quick, call the Eternal Word Television Network news desk!) A miracle has occurred, because, for better or worse, it had finally happened. Bones and I...well...we'd had sex. No doubt in my mind, no sir. And to top it all off, it wasn't just sex, but the sets-off-the-smoke-detectors, hot-as-all-fucking-hell, wake-up-the-neighbors, rip-each-others-clothes-off and fuck-each-other's-brains-out kind of sex.

And Bones—my crazy, squinty little Bones—well, I don't know why, but she was totally in denial, and I couldn't really figure out why since going back to sleep couldn't be that important to her. (Hell, this is the woman that won't think twice about pulling an all-nighter so she can take a skull that's been smashed into a zillion pieces and glue it together.) Maybe we finally short circuited some of her genius neural nets and now instead of being like Data she's just going to be normal like the rest of us?

Naaaw, probably not. But she was denial, and just plain-fucking wrong, because we'd totally fucked each other silly last night. Probably a few times, if my gut was right.

And now I had to try to find a way to make her understand that. Jesus. Talk about a hard fix. But still this was Bones, my partner—both professionally...and now, sexually, I...guess? I hope? I want?

Who the fuck knows? Well, who am I kidding? I _totally _want that. But, God, my head hurts. Okay. Deep breath...here goes.

"Bones," I said quietly. "I really think we need to talk about this."

She blinked at me several times and then shook her head in clear defiance. Of course she was gonna be a pain in the ass about this. Of course.

"I don't see what there's to talk about, Booth," she told me after she'd drained the rest of her water bottle and deposited her empty on my nightstand. "As I said, while we may have had some kind of intimate encounter last night, but I believe it's quite clear that we didn't have sexual intercourse, and so whatever did happen isn't that big a deal. Furthermore, the fact of the matter is, I'm tired and hungover—as I'd expect you are, too—and I really would like to get a few more hours of sleep before we have to call Angela about the Havisham Fountain."

I rolled my eyes as soon as she screwed up the name of the fountain. I couldn't help myself. She was starting to tick me off. "It's Taversham, Bones," I corrected her. "Miss Havisham is a character in a Dickens novel."

"Whatever," she grumbled in a way that made it quite clear that she didn't give two flying fucks about the fountain's name. That or she was screwing it up on purpose, just to piss me off. "The point is, we didn't have sex, and consequently, I want to sleep a few more hours before we each—"

_Jesus Christ, _I cursed silently as I stood up from the bed, rubbing the scratches one last time before holding out my hand expectantly as I waited for her to hand over her empty water bottle. _If I weren't so friggin' hungover,_ I thought to myself, _I'd need another drink. Or five._

"I'll get you another one of these, alright?" I said, realizing I needed another minute or two to clear my head and figure out how to deal with Bones trip' down the longest river in Africa. "I could use one, too, I think." I snatched her empty bottle from her hand and, shaking my head at her stubbornness, walked out of the bedroom as I called over my shoulder. "Be right back."

_This is fucking unreal, _I told myself as I walked into my kitchen. _Totally, completely unreal. _Except I knew that it _was _real. Absolutely, unmistakably real. This was definitely _not _a continuation of my coma dream.

Because the Bones—the Bren, really—of my coma dream wasn't anywhere near as unreasonable...or as big a pain in the ass as the one that was now sitting in my bed.

* * *

><p>I'm not certain how long he was gone, but it was for a significant amount of time. It took so long, his errand to the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of water for both of us that is, that it was long enough that I'd started to doze in spite of myself. I could only surmise that the reason Booth was taking so long ambling away his time in the kitchen was because he was metaphorically freaking out. Now, if he'd just been momentarily taken aback as I admit I'd been when I'd first awakened, I could see that being a perfectly normal reaction for an individual to have in such a situation. But, I know Booth well enough to know that's not what he was doing in the kitchen at the current moment. No, instead, I'd say that it was highly likely that he was pacing back and forth having an intense conversation with himself as he tried to dissect and rationalize every tiny bit of information he possessed about what had, or more accurately, <em>hadn't <em>happened between us. It was a complete waste of time, effort, and energy in my opinion. Really, I didn't see what the big deal was—we hadn't had sex, so what was the problem?

I swear, Booth can be such a stereotypical female sometimes in how he needs to deconstruct and analyze every teeny, tiny little detail of situations that touch upon the fact that he isn't always in control. To use an appropriate idiom, I know that is the cast iron pot calling the cast iron skillet black, but come on—it's not _that _big a deal. Things happen, you assess, you move on, and that's that. That's _life_.

So, as I was saying, since we didn't have sex, I didn't see what the big deal was—I mean, okay. I knew it was a bit out of the usual for me to make a request of him to let me sleep in his bed for a few more hours. But, the way I see it's like this—I never would've ended up in this position if I hadn't caved to Booth's charming grin and begging that I go out to have just 'one drink...to celebrate' with him. If I hadn't gone out with him, I would've gone back to my apartment, showered, ordered some sushi takeout for dinner, had it delivered, maybe unpacked a bit, and then crawled into my bed and collapsed on top of my 800-thread count lilac damask sheets before I called it a night. But, since I didn't, and I went with him, in a way, I saw everything that had happened as a consequence of him flashing that damn smile at me.

Because, really, that's what did me in...the smile. _His _smile...or, more accurately, his grin. Whenever he flashes it at me, I'm done. On a good day, there's not much I can do to fight it, let alone a day like yesterday when I was so tired and didn't have much fight in me to begin with. I'm not sure if he knows that or not. I suppose, if he did, I'd be in more trouble than I already am since I know he'd use it to his advantage whenever he needed to get me to do what he wants. But, then again, one might suppose that I'd be used to it by now since it's always been like that with him.

From the very first day he walked into my lecture hall at American, oozing that smooth confidence and cocky arrogance of his, he pretty much had me for the price of a grin. His grin is definitely what had me at the word 'hello' four years ago when he came strutting into my lecture hall thinking that he owned the damn place all brash and so totally full of himself. Before that day, I'd never met anyone like him that actually had both the requisite talent and depth of personal intellect and personality to back up the level of cockiness he settled on that was somewhere between intense masculinity and outright machismo on a sliding scale of alpha male behavior. It's why I think it's rather appropriate _and _amusing that he's taken to wearing the cocky belt buckle in recent years as opposed the U.S. Army brass buckle he used to prefer.

But, for now, all reminiscing aside, the fact that I was falling asleep and had to keep jerking myself awake while I waited for Booth only reaffirmed my original assessment that all I wanted to do in that moment was to go back to sleep for a while. It was getting to the point where sleep was even taking precedent over my thirst. After all, I don't think I'd slept for any span of significant time since my plane had been on its final descent into Dulles earlier that afternoon. We'd ended up having to circle the airport for a while, and it had delayed us for about an hour, during which time I'd apparently fallen asleep. The hour or so that I managed to steal during our descent wasn't even that much of a restful sleep, despite the fact that I'd been comfortably tucked away in my first-class seat while I'd dozed. If fact, I'd woken up even more drained than I had been before I'd fallen asleep because I'd had this crazy dream while I was sleeping that had shaken me a bit.

I don't remember all of it, but I do know that I thought I'd disembarked the plane and gotten pulled aside by two Homeland Security agents at the terminal who escorted me to an airport security holding room for some bogus reason. And, then, just like that, Booth had come in all suave and charming and proceeded to verbally work me over about why I'd left for Guatemala despite the fact that he was still recovering from his brain surgery. I'd woken up just before something important happened. I know it was something important, but it slipped away from my brain as soon as the irksome _ding _of the overhead PA speaker had awakened me. That is _such _a frustrating feeling, and one that merely served to contribute to my foul mood as I collected my baggage and made my way to the lab for a quick check-in before I thought I'd be heading home.

But then, Booth derailed my plans, and I'd ended up in his bed somehow. However, since we hadn't had sex, and, as I'd said, I was _so_ tired and sleepy—and since Booth _had _turned out to have been gone for a really long time getting our water from the kitchen—I eventually gave in to the inevitable, stopped fighting my drowsiness, and fell asleep.

I'm not certain how long I'd been out, but the next thing I knew I was being awakened with a loud, piercing whistle cracking the air followed by a dull thud hitting my head. I felt a flush of anger as I was jerked awake and realized that a pillow had been lobbed at me upon the return of some arrogant, cocksure alpha male to the bedroom.

"Yo, Bones!" came the seemingly loud call. "Wakey, wakey!"

"Go away," I muttered drowsily. "I'm tired, Booth. I want to sleep. Come back in four hours, or climb into bed for all I care if you want to go back to sleep, too. It's not like we're naked so it's fine. Now, go...or come to bed, but make your choice."

He was silent for what seemed like a very long time before a sigh preceded his words.

"Bones, this is no time for sleeping," came a voice that seemed to be growing louder—and maybe it was if he was coming closer to the bed, as some part of my brain that was reluctantly beginning to work again suspected. "And I brought you another bottle of water, so wake up, huh? Up and at 'em."

"No," I said somewhat petulantly, turning over in the direction that I guessed to be the opposite from which his voice was coming. "I'm tired and going back to sleep." I then reached for the duvet, grabbed at a handful of the same material, and pulled it up over my head before I snuggled back down into the warm cocoon I'd formed for myself and went back to sleep.

* * *

><p>When I got back, guess what I found waiting for me?<p>

That's right. Her Royal Highness had decided to impersonate Sleeping Beauty, but I sure as hell wasn't going to risk waking her up with a kiss since I still didn't know where I stood with her. Besides, I couldn't actually believe she'd dozed off. I mean, really, Bones? Sure, she'd run her little logicky thing to the hilt and decided we hadn't had sex, but still...even so, it boggled my mind that she was so lackadaisical about it. I mean, if we were 'just partners,' then shouldn't it be a bit of a shock to wake up in my bed...and half naked? And if we weren't 'just partners' anymore, wouldn't you think she'd be a little more interested in being awake when I came back in? Seriously. God love her, that partner/possibly more-than-a-partner there (even if I didn't know which it was at the current moment), but she's a fucking piece of work, that one.

So I knew I at least needed to try to wake her up (with some other tactic than a kiss), if for no other reason than that she's gonna be really friggin' sorry when she wakes up after having not guzzled that second bottle of water—which, in accordance with the Temperance Brennan corollary to the 'when mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy' rule of thumb, would mean that _I'd _be really friggin' sorry she didn't chug that second bottle of water—and she gets all cranky-pants on me. I just wasn't quite sure how to do it because a large part of my mind was still dealing with how _she _was dealing with this whole situation.

I mean, doesn't that fucking figure, huh? Bones has sailed so far down the river of denial (because, of course, denial is not just a river in Egypt) she's halfway to the Aswan Dam by now. So it's no surprise, I suppose, that when I come back with more water—per her request, by the way—she grumbles about us not being naked and how she wants to go to sleep, that she pulls the covers over her head and that's it. End of conversation.

I was too baffled to be completely pissed off at her, but suffice it to say, she had me completely flummoxed. Bones does this sometimes. A lot of times, actually. She gets those little logic gears grinding away in that brainiac cranium of hers, and before long, she's worked herself into a lather—yes, it _is _possible—and when she does, it's damn near impossible to get her to let go of her logic long enough to hear another point of view once she's reached the point of no return. In this case, she seemed to have woken up, quickly assessed the situation and arrived at the conclusion that we did not have sex—I'm not even gonna try to figure out how in the fuck she came to that doozy of a conclusion or I know I'll blow some neurons that I'm sure I'll need when I'm old and don't want to end up wearing adult diapers in the nursing home because I can't control my bowel functions, thank you very much.

So while I was fetching water—there was probably some kind of deeper symbolism there, but at the moment, my head was still pounding something fierce and there was enough residual alcohol in my system that my neurons weren't quite firing the way they usually did, so I didn't have a snowball's chance in hell at figuring out what that symbolism might be—she'd apparently continued to construct some brilliant rational defense of her conclusion. By the time I got back with the second round of bottled water, she was, apparently, convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that we had not actually had sex.

It all instantly reminded me of that Jethro Tull song:

_Old Charlie stole the handle  
><em>_And the train, it won't stop going  
><em>_No way to slow down_

I wasn't sure what to do to stop or even slow down the runaway freight train of her logic. So when she pulled the covers over her head, I knew there wasn't much I could do, at that point, to get her talking again so we could deal with this situation, because I was sure as fuck certain it needed to be dealt with before we were said and done.

Well, actually, there was _something _I could really have tried to if I'd wanted to—I knew I could wear her down the way I'd done countless times before, with an easy smile, a playful wink, and a smooth laugh. But with this kind of hangover—you know, the kind where even your fucking eyeballs hurt—I wasn't sure I'd be able to get the Boothy charm machine to turn over never mind put into high gear needed so I could put it to work on Bones' stubborn insistence that we hadn't done the deed the night before.

_Fuck it, _I grumbled to myself as I glanced once more at the Bones-shaped lump under the covers. I shrugged out of my badly wrinkled, wrinkle-resistant, buttonless button-down shirt and—after staring at it for a moment as I wondered whether it'd cost more to get the buttons sewn back on than it would to just buy another damn shirt—tossed it in the dirty clothes hamper. I walked over to my dresser, yanked open the drawer and pulled out my perfectly faded and well-worn Steelers T-shirt. Then I wandered into the bathroom and closed the door behind me.

I stared at myself in the mirror. I looked like complete shit. My hair was still all sweaty and sticking up every which way, and my eyes were a bit bloodshot. I hadn't shaved in about a week, so I had a bit of a beard going on, not really a good one—I don't seem to be able to get it to grow in all the places I'd need it to so I could grow a proper beard, you know—but more of a Yasser Arafat kind of look, except that I'm marginally better looking than ol' Yasser ever was. I scratched at my scruffy cheek and considered shaving, but after a moment of thinking about it, decided not to.

I turned around and looked over my shoulder at my back. I was a mess. The way I'd been clawed up, with eight or ten distinct long, red, puffy gouges running down my back with some faint black and blue marks hovering just above my ass crack, it looked like I'd been fucking jumped on by a mountain lion. _Then again, maybe I was, _I thought with a smirk. And that lioness was now curled up in _my _bed, under _my _covers, tired, cranky, hungover and—I noted with a snort—probably thirsty and hungry. My own stomach growled, reminding me that it was owed a good, hearty hangover-beating breakfast at some point (you know, the kind with three eggs, a short stack of pancakes, bacon, hash browns, toast and scrapple, with a bottomless cup of coffee and a tall OJ), but then the hangover sneered back as a wave of nausea passed through me at the idea of eating anything in that particular moment. Taking one last look at my mauled back and bruised ass, I pulled on my Steelers shirt and took a leak before I slinked back into the bedroom.

I stood there for a minute or two, just staring at the bed and the lump under the covers. _At least she's sleeping on the right side of the bed, _I thought as I chewed a little on the inside of my lip and considered whether to take her up on her unexpected offer to join her. I yawned and rubbed my eyes with the heel of my hand. I was tired, and the damn Advil hadn't kicked in yet, and after a quick glance at the clock on my nightstand—it was just past seven—I decided that my best move at this point was to sleep off the fucking hangover, with the hope that my stomach would feel better when I woke up. I wasn't sure what to do about Bones and that runaway freight train of unassailable but completely wrong logic, but I knew one thing for damn sure...She was gonna have to share the bed and relinquish a fair share of those (that is, _my_) covers. Because hell would freeze over before I slept off this hangover on my couch.

So I walked around to the left side of the bed, peeled back the covers—ignoring for the moment the growl I heard sound from the other side of the bed—and crawled back into bed.

_My_ bed.

* * *

><p>One of the benefits of having spent years in the field―and in this particular case, I mean anthropological field, not FBIactive crime field―is that you learn how to sleep comfortably in just about any position. By nature, I usually prefer to sleep on my side―it doesn't really matter which one―and to this day, it's the position in which I almost always will attain the deepest and most restful periods of sleep. I believe this occurs because I know I achieve a REM dream state when I sleep on my side much easier than as compared to the other choice of any of the other sleeping positions. Now, that's not to say that I can't get a good night's sleep when I'm lying on my back or sleeping on my stomach, because I can. As I said, when I'm in the field, sometimes you have to learn to sleep when and how you can, so it's an invaluable skill that means I've woken up in just about any position you could possible imagine.

However, later that morning, Booth proved me wrong as one position I don't think I've ever before learned to sleep in―because, well, I've never been in it before (which is saying something)―is the position I found myself in the second time I woke up in my partner's bed. I wasn't sure how much time had passed between when we'd had our earlier impromptu conversation, but I know it was long enough for two things to occur. First, Booth had apparently taken me up on my offer to come back to bed so that we could both get some much needed sleep. Second, and more annoyingly, it appeared that my education of Booth's predilections had been expanded to include the knowledge that he's apparently a snuggler in bed. Okay, so I can't say that I'm surprised by that fact. And, in another time and place―even though we hadn't had sex, because of that much, I was relatively certain―I probably wouldn't have minded snuggling with him. But, the current weird position I'd woken up in was not going to work for me whether Booth was a snuggler or not.

The whole mess had probably started because, at some point during my slumber, I'd rolled onto my back and taken up a position in the very middle of the bed. Well, that's usually not that big a deal. I'm used to having my bed to myself when I sleep. Also―again, not surprisingly because I usually sleep alone―I'd somehow managed to stockpile all the pillows in the bed so that I was sort of half reclining on my back like I do when I was at home. For his part, Booth had apparently adapted to the lack of space and lack of pillows quite ingeniously, as he'd rolled over onto his stomach and found a new pillow to use. And, all of that would've been well and good if his new position hadn't placed him between my open legs so that he was laying his head on my stomach and using _me _as his new pillow.

I know it sounds like a strange position to wake up in from my description, but it was actually pleasant for a minute when I woke up and saw his head laying on my stomach. I couldn't help myself as I reached out and let my hands hover over his head for just a minute as I grazed the soft hair there before a more practical issue took demanded my complete attention, i.e., I had a full bladder and Booth's heavy head, neck, and shoulders weren't helping the situation as he pressed on it. I didn't have much time to enjoy having him in such an intimate position since the pressure I felt on my bladder making me squirm...and not in a good way. I quickly contemplated my options, and realizing that time was of the essence, I decided against even trying to wake him up. About five minutes later, I'd managed―somewhat skillfully on my part, I have to admit―to extricate myself from Booth's grasp. Apparently, he was so far gone still that he barely registered me leaving. I knew he was still in a very deep sleep as he mumbled something about needing to remember to freeze some cereal because he was hungry and the chocolate syrup wouldn't like it if the milk was warm. Shaking my head, my brow furrowed slightly as I realized he now was in sole possession of my coveted position in bed...along with all the pillows and blankets. Realizing I wasn't done sleeping yet, I decided I'd fight the battle of reclaiming my spot, blankets, pillows, and all, after I'd taken care of the more basic needs that had awakened me.

I have to admit it, I was still very hungover as I stumbled into the bathroom, grabbing the second bottle of water that Booth had brought me earlier from the nightstand as I went. When I shut the door behind me, I realized how sweaty and dirty I felt. I contemplated how good a shower might feel, but a lack of a change of clothes and the desire to get more sleep kept me from doing more than emptying my bladder and splashing some water on my face. I knew I could've stolen some boxers and a t-shirt from Booth, but I was just too tired to put up the effort. Staring at myself in the mirror, I took one glance, saw puffy and bloodshot eyes staring back at me―along with what looked like quite a strange skin irritation that I was developing along my neck for some reason―and so I quickly turned away. I downed the bottle of water I'd brought in only a few gulps, and then quickly padded out of the bathroom and returned to the bedroom.

Booth was, no surprise there, still asleep when I got back. I glanced at the clock and saw it was a little past eleven. I knew I should text Angela to let her know I was okay, but my phone was probably dead even if I remembered where it was in that moment since I hadn't charged it last night for obvious reasons. And, like I said, I didn't really want to do anything but go back to sleep. So, if showering could wait, so, too, frankly, could Angela. My decision made, as I stared at the bed with Booth sprawled diagonally on his stomach in the middle of it, I contemplated my options of how to obtain at least a modicum of space, at least one pillow, and some of the covers.

Finally, I realized I didn't have much of an option re: the pillows and position in bed, but I did have some room to maneuver re: the blanket since Booth had kicked most of it off and it lay at his feet while he seemed content to wrap himself with the flat sheet. Nodding to myself, I grabbed the duvet, wrapped it completely around my body, and then collapsed back onto the bed.

My actions were met with a grunt from Booth as I apparently―and completely unintentionally, I swear―elbowed him in the side as I rolled over and situated myself into a comfortable position in which I could resume slumbering.

"Go back to sleep," I muttered, my head still pounding a bit as I yawned and tried to get comfortable.

Again, a second and unintelligible grumble met my words, but apparently it was a grumble of acquiescence since he seemed to settle down as I'd strongly suggested he do so once I stopped moving.

I still wasn't quite pleased with how I was situated in the bed, so when I felt Booth pull me towards him, I didn't offer any significant protest when he reached for what I guessed was his new favorite pillow―which, it turned out, I had volunteered myself to be...at least, for the span of the next five hours or so. The last thing I remembered as my eyes drooped shut was the feeling of Booth pulling me towards him, wrapping his arm around me, and situating me in the crook of his grasp. It was a rather warm and comfortable position, so I didn't fight him when his head lolled over, and he lightly pressed his lips to the top of my head, especially since we would both be too tired to remember it happening later in the day anyway.

Thus, once more, back to sleep I went.

* * *

><p>The second time I woke up that morning, after both of us had crashed again following our aborted "about last night" discussion, I found myself sleeping on my right side—not my usual side, which is possibly what woke me up—with my left arm snaked around Bones' waist and my head resting on her arm.<p>

_Mmmm, _I thought. _That's nice. Wait. Bones? Wait._

It took me a couple of seconds to orient myself to why I was laying on the wrong side and facing the wrong wall and, more importantly, why I was resting my head on a warm, soft arm instead of a cool, soft pillow. It took a few more seconds to realize that I'd drooled a little on my pillow—that is, on Bones' arm. I lifted my head, sat up a little bit, then reached over and wiped the little puddle of drool off her arm, which caused her to stir somewhat, but thankfully she didn't wake up. It was then I realized that she'd somehow commandeered all of my pillows, all four of them, and most of the comforter, leaving me with no pillow and just the sheet to cover me. This realization did _not _come as a surprise to me. It figures—totally figures—that little Miss Bossy would go and bogart all the pillows and my covers when she's sleeping off _her _hangover in _my _bed. I probably should've thanked the saints that I even had the sheet to cover me. I thought about going all Ticketmaster on her and levy a service charge for her use of my bedding. But, of course, she wouldn't have gotten the joke. She wouldn't have gotten the bogart thing either.

_Whatever_, I thought as I rolled back a little and noted how she _did _look pretty cute though, all tucked into the covers and pillows like that.

I looked over at her, laying there with her hair fanned across one of the pillows and her arms folded in front of her chest as she slept, and considered trying to repossess one of the pillows for my own use. But she just looked so adorable sleeping like that. I mean, it's hardly the first time I'd seen her sleep—well, to be honest, it's not even the first time we've shared a bed between us, considering the half-dozen times we've had to go undercover, which almost always seemed to involve some overnight excursion and a hotel room with one king-sized bed—but, nonetheless, I'd found myself pretty much transfixed watching her lay there, her eyes gently closed and her mouth hanging open a bit as a soft, little deep breath escaped from her lips.

I couldn't help but smile.

In the end, I decided not to steal back one of my pillows, and hoped that such an act of generosity on my end might mean that the good Lord might take pity on me and spare me a kink in my neck from sleeping without a legitimate pillow. So, after getting up again to take another leak—those beers, however many I'd had the night before, plus the three bottles of water I'd guzzled, were still making their way through my system as my liver and kidneys worked overtime—and realizing that I did, indeed, feel a bit better, with only a dull headache instead of the temple-crushing, eyeball-tugging monster of a pile-driver I'd woke up with earlier in the morning, I crawled back into bed and resumed my place next to her, using the only thing I had that would work as a pillow: the warm, comfy flesh of her upper arm. I heard her murmur in her sleep, but she eventually settled down again once I stopped moving. The last thing I remember before falling asleep again is snuggling against her and listening to the soft purr of her calm and even breathing.

The third time I woke up that morning, I was awakened by a strange buzzing, scraping sound.

_Phone, _I thought as I emerged from the haze of sleep. _Fuck. Phone. Parker. Case. Bones. Wait. Where's my damn phone? _

I blinked my eyes open and turned around to reach over to grab it off the nightstand when I realized I was way, _way_ too far away to reach it. It was then I realized why: not only was I sleeping in the middle of the bed—as opposed to the left side where I normally sleep—but, more importantly, I was laying right there next to her. I mean, _right _next to her, spooning her, my groin tucked right up against her ass, my right arm laying across one of the pillows, right over her head, my fingers curled just inches from her hair.

The first thing I thought as the data processed in my brain was, _oh my God_—_I'm spooning Bones. _The next thing that passed through my mind was, _oh my God, this is awesome_—_I'm spooning Bones. _Then, about five seconds later, as I felt another part of my anatomy wake up to the fact that I was curled against my partner's ass, all I could think was, _I better get my dick away from her before I do something really stupid, like wake her up and get smacked down because she's pissed that she thinks I'm coming on to her or something. Shit._

I slowly scooted away from her, trying very hard not to wake her. I heard her murmur, then make a soft _pffft _sound as she stirred a little, shifting her hips and pulling the comforter more snugly over her chest, and then she mumbled something about a chocolate milkshake and a looming deadline on an article about Mauretanian something-or-other, then fell silent again except for those cute, barely audible deep breaths of hers. As soon as I was sure she was still asleep, I rolled onto my back and reached for my phone.

The moment I saw the alert on the screen, I cringed. _Missed call: Angela. _I pressed the "Recent" button and saw that I'd missed a few of other calls. _Hacker. _I rolled my eyes. Talk about a buzzkill. _Cam. _We'd talked about going and getting a drink, me and Cam, after the doc said it was okay, but right then, I was coming to think I'd never want to drink again, so...

I leaned my head back into the mattress and sighed. _Fuck. _After all these years, fantasizing about having her in my bed, here she was, but after spending quite a bit of time in bed with her that morning with not so much as a blip on my Boothy radar to suggest there was a chance at us being able to reprise last night's sadly-forgotten experience, I was kind of dreading getting out of bed, pretty sure that the moment I got out of that bed, any chance at us getting together again was probably shot to hell. _Son of a bitch. Dammit. _With a sigh, I knew I needed to get up when I saw the call log on my phone still staring back at me. _Fuck._

Turning to glance once more at Bones, when I saw that she was still asleep, I took a deep breath, threw the sheet off my legs, and gently rolled out of bed. I quietly padded my way out of the bedroom and into my living room, closing the bedroom door, but leaving it cracked open a couple of inches. I walked into my kitchen with a clear mission: find food, then caffeine, and then consume both in mass quantities that would make a bonafide Conehead, like Beldar or Prymaat, proud.

Opening my refrigerator, I stood there numbly for a minute staring at the contents, trying to take an inventory of what I might have in there that Bones would eat. I had a pint of fresh strawberries, but they were starting to look a bit squishy, and I knew Bones was _very _particular about how, why, and under what circumstances she was willing to eat even fruit that I knew she liked. I knew a guy at the bureau, an Orthodox Jew named Rosenstein, who kept a super-strict kosher diet, who was less picky than Bones could be when she decided to be a pain in the ass about something. So, then I opened the egg carton and counted only four eggs, which definitely wasn't going to fly, since I will typically eat three for breakfast even on a normal morning, never mind when I needed a hangover-busting meal. Picking up the container of cream cheese and weighing it in my hand, I determined it was half full, which I counted as a small victory as I glanced over my shoulder to confirm that I still had a couple of bagels left from my visit to Morrie's Bagels a few days before. Giving myself a silent thumb's up, I walked over to the cabinet and retrieved a bag of freshly-ground Dunkin' Donuts Original Roast coffee. I measured out enough for six cups—because I sure as hell was gonna need at least three cups for myself, and I had a pretty good feeling that Bones, whenever she finally woke up, was gonna need a solid infusion for herself—and had just flipped the 'on' switch on my Cuisinart coffeemaker when I heard my phone buzzing again.

"Cool your jets," I muttered as I reached for the phone. "Jeez..."

The screen flashed _Text message: Angela. _I rolled my eyes as I cringed at the thought of what words of wisdom awaited me as I opened her message. _Brennan's not answering phone. Goes straight to voicemail. I'm worried. Do you know where she is?_

I looked over to my bedroom and nibbled the inside of my lip as I mentally composed a response to Angela's text message. _We stayed out late last nite, _I thumbed back_. She's prob sleeping off the hangover. Maybe her phone's off? _I love Angela, I really do, but like hell I was going to give her absolutely any more information than was needed to shut her up since she's also the Gossip Gertie of the Jeffersonian when she wants to be—which is basically always. My rule of thumb is, in matters of a personal nature, if I don't want it on the front page of the _Washington Post_, I don't tell Angela. _If I hear from her, I'll tell her to call you, ok? _I set the phone down and listened to the satisfying twinkling sound and inhaled the rich aroma of the coffee as it started to brew. My phone buzzed again. Angela again, of course: _So I shouldn't call the cavalry? ;-) _I frowned at the winking emoticon she used to punctuate her message. _Maybe give her another hr or 2, _I thumbed back, _then you can call Gen Custer. _I stared at the coffee drizzling into the carafe for a minute or so when my phone buzzed once more. _Ok, _Angela had replied. The brevity of that response perhaps should have concerned me, but in that moment, my brain was not firing on all cylinders. So I set the phone back on the counter and watched it for a few seconds, praying that it would not buzz again. My prayers were answered when the only sound I heard was the high-pitched _beep _that signaled that my coffee was done_._

No sooner had the beeping stopped when I'd picked up my thick-walled diner-style mug and nearly lunged for the coffeemaker since I saw enough of the glorious life-giving liquid gold sitting in the carafe just waiting to act as a balm to my rather fucked-up morning. Once I'd poured a healthy dollop of the most excellent brown liquid into my cup, and sipped—well, if I've ever come close to having a spontaneous orgasm where no physical contact with any sexual organ or some type of pie was involved, despite the fact that the coffee was so hot that I burned the roof of my mouth, that was probably it. I doubt I've ever had a cup of coffee that tasted as good as that first cup tasted that morning. I'm serious—it was like goddamn ambrosia, filling my nostrils as the hot liquid rolled down the back of my throat and snaked its way through my gullet and welcomed me back to the waking world. I quickly drank my first cup, then poured myself a second one before I wandered back to my bedroom to check on my still-snoozing overnight guest.

I leaned against the doorway, cradling my coffee mug in one hand as I slowly opened the door with the other, not quite certain what I expected to find, but very surprised with the sight that greeted my eyes.

* * *

><p>For a man who was a former sniper, Booth apparently doesn't possess as much stealth as he'd like to think he does. For some reason, even if I hadn't heard him rooting around in the kitchen, I would've woken up as soon as I smelled the coffee. You can't really hide something like that—especially when it smelled so damn good. But, the more I smelled it the more I realized I didn't really want coffee. I wanted <em>food<em>. I wanted substantial food, and I knew the probability of being able to obtain such sustenance from Booth's refrigerator was extremely low. Because Booth is the stereotypical bachelor, and more often than not, his refrigerator is filled with a month's supply of beer (unless there was a sporting event of some kind the night before, in which case the supply dwindles to a week's worth, more or less), a few slices of leftover pepperoni pizza of unknown vintage, whole milk that's past its 'use-by' date, a half-glass worth of orange juice in a container that I know he's drank out of (same applies to the milk, but I don't really drink whole milk, so I don't care as much about that), and cold cuts in the drawer. He usually doesn't keep fruit around, and on the off chance he does, it's probably gone bad because he's stored it improperly.

So, given the dearth of food options I would likely find in Booth's kitchen, I did what any normal and sane individual would do once I glanced at the clock and realized it was almost 4:30 in the afternoon—I stretched out in his bed, arching my back as I let out a contented yawn. I then rolled over to the edge of the bed and sat up. I blinked several times as I raised a hand and brushed the sleepers from my eyes. I definitely felt better than I had the first time or even the second time I'd woken up, but I definitely needed some major caloric intake to complete the process that would signal my return to normalcy. Knowing what I needed to do, as my eyes darted around the room, I frowned when I realized that it would be a convenient thing in that moment if I had my cell phone. However, my phone in the outer room in my purse, and as I noted earlier, my battery was probably dead anyway. So—I mentally thumbed through the available options...no cell phone here meant I needed—it took a moment for my sleepy brain to spot what I was looking for, but after another minute of searching, I saw Booth's landline extension sitting on one of the built-in bookshelves near his TV.

_Perfect_.

Getting up from the bed, I trudged over to grab the phone extension, wincing a bit as I walked. For some reason, I noticed that the muscle groupings of my thighs felt extremely tight and sore as I walked, even more than they had the first time I'd gotten out of bed. It was almost as if I'd over exerted myself on the leg abductor machine at the gym. As I hobbled over and grabbed the phone, I quickly dialed a very familiar phone number and placed a substantial order to have delivered from Thai Village. True, it was a bit early for dinner, but considering the fact that I hadn't eaten breakfast or lunch, I'd take Booth's cracks about blue-plate specials as long as I could stuff my face with vegetarian summer rolls, steamed dumplings in pnang sauce, vegetarian pad bamee (extra spicy) with extra white rice, and extra fortune cookies since I don't like to share mine with Booth. And, Thai Village has some of the most excellent vanilla-flavored fortune cookies that you can find in all of D.C. After I'd placed the order—grateful that the number to Thai Village was one I'd long ago committed to memory since we ordered so much takeout from them in the normal course of any month—I shuffled back to the bed and crawled in, waiting to see if and when Booth would come back.

I wasn't really tired anymore, but I was definitely sore, and my mind tried to figure out what might've caused such a physical response. It wasn't like I'd been in any strange positions during the final days of the dig in Guatemala. And, I certainly hadn't had time to go to the gym since my plane only landed yesterday morning. As a matter of fact, I'd only had time to go to the lab before I went out with Booth—

_Oh._

_Hmmm._

_Booth._

_Sore muscles...muscle strain._

_Waking up half clothed in his bed after a blackout._

_Damn._

_No...it couldn't be...could it?_

I sat up in bed, and my brow furrowed as I considered the possibility. Was it possible that my original assessment had been wrong? Was it actually possible that I'd slept with Booth (in a sexual sense) and _hadn't _remembered it for some inexplicable reason?

But...for that to happen, it would have to mean I either took advantage of him...or...he'd have to want me just as much as I wanted him and so it was a mutual decision. Right?

Wait. That's not possible...is it?

I mean, I know we've always shared a physical attraction since the very first time we met, but I thought it had waned for him over the years. Surely...he wasn't still attracted to me to the point where he might have reciprocated if I made some type of sexual overture to him in my drunken state?

But, if I had...and for some crazy reason he'd taken me up on my offer, then that would certainly explain the muscle strain. And, it would help to explain...well, it answer a lot of questions and wouldn't be that sudden...at least for me. It would be understandable at the very least. I mean, it's not like I haven't been thinking of him in _that _way for a while now. But, it's been particularly bad ever since I left for that dig, and had my feelings crystallized in that damn hypersexualized dream about him at the airport. I'd been thinking how much I'd like to tear that damn suit off his body, knock that cocky grin off his face, and fuck him senseless if we'd ever could find another time and another place to make a go of things and obliterate that damn stupid line of his. And, I guess, my subconscious finally found a way to make that happen...right?

I mean, that's what this comes down to, right?

Had I actually had sex with Booth? Was it possible, in my jet-lagged drunken stupor from last night, that I'd finally done it? Because if I did...and I don't remember a minute of it...well, damn. That would suck. No, strike that. Correct. If true, there's no 'woulds' or 'maybes' about it. Pure and simple, that sucks.

_That really fucking sucks._

So, I guess...well, I need to think about this...right? I need to be able to think about this logically and rationally and figure things out, but...wait. I'm not really—that is...I'm...wait.

Okay. I need to think about this. I know that.

I need time and space to think about this. But, from what I can determine, there's two major problems that will impede that process. First, Booth's out in the kitchen. Yes, for right now, he seems quite content to dig around out there making a significant amount of noise that even his neighbors two floors away can probably hear. However, I think I can smell coffee being ground. Ergo, if he's making coffee, once it's percolated, and he's downed at least cup—most likely scalding the roof of his mouth in the process no matter how many times I've warned him to be careful so that he doesn't burn himself—he's going to get either bored, curious, and/or worried and come looking for me. Second, my brain—despite how organized my mental thought processes may seem—is actually quite...well, impaired at the current moment. I still have a headache, although it wasn't as bad as it was earlier, it was still quite pronounced—probably because of dehydration and a lack of caffeine. True, I do feel better than I had the first time I'd woken up, but still...my head _does _hurt. Even more importantly, besides my headache, my stomach is rumbling. I'm hungry. Very hungry. And, therefore, until I can do something to remedy that situation, I'm not going to be able to be in the appropriate frame of mind to handle this situation with Booth—and the question that needs to be addressed—until I've improved my current set of circumstances.

And, that question, in all its complicatedly simplistic glory was this: _did we have sex?_

At first, I'd been fairly certain that we didn't. After all, I think I know myself well enough to know that if I'd had a chance to finally have go at Booth, he wouldn't have ended up half-dressed when the deed was done. But, given the mild muscle strain that I felt in my leg muscles, it seemed highly unlikely that the only other possibility, i.e., that we passed out before some type of penetration, had taken place.

So, if that was the question that I needed to answer first, then the next question was...what was best to proceed?

If we'd sex, and—working on the assumption that Booth's memories of the situation is just as impaired as mine are—how can I find out for certain?

Hmmmm...for us to have had sex, then...well, I suppose the secondary question that I need to answer in the process of finding out the answer to my larger quandary is—is Booth still physically attracted to me? Because, if he's not even physically attracted to me, than that does decrease the likelihood that we had sex. I mean, yes, most men will respond in certain situations if the conditions are conducive towards achieving coitus, but I think I feel fairly certain in believing that Booth is the type of man that would have to feel at least _some _type of attraction for the woman he was having sex with, no matter how impaired his judgement was.

So...that said...what do I do next? How do I find out if he's still attracted to me and then use _that _information to find out if we actually had sex with one another?

Hmmm...like I said, this isn't an easy task the handle with my brain like this. I needed to buy time to regroup. I needed to eat, clear my head, and then figure out if he's attracted to me so I can determine if we really had sex or not. So, first step...food. Then Booth. Then...well, the fuck if I know. Who am I kidding? This isn't a plan. At this point, as Angela is so fond of saying, I'm just winging it.

_Fuck. I needed food, and I needed it __now_. _God, where is that delivery guy?_

* * *

><p>So I was standing there, leaning on the doorframe as I pushed the door open, and was mildly surprised to find Bones sitting up in bed. She was actually awake by the time I came back to the bedroom from the kitchen. Maybe it was the coffee that did it—I mean, Dunkin' Donuts is pretty good shit, and yours truly does a pretty mean pot of coffee—but in any case, that's how I found her, sitting up in bed, just looking at me when I opened the bedroom door all the way.<p>

For the first time since—well, since whatever had happened between us the night before—I got a good look at her, clear-eyed, well-rested, her hair adorably mussed up from sleeping. How long had we actually slept? I glanced over at the clock on my nightstand.

_4:22. _

Damn. That's impressive, right? I don't think I've tied one on like that and slept in that late since the night I graduated from Quantico. For a moment, I wondered what my neurologist would've said if he knew I'd gone out drinking and done whatever the fuck it is that I done. You know what? Strike that. I don't even want to think about what he'd say. He'd given me the go-ahead to have a drink or two in a social setting, but there's no damn way I could say that whatever I'd done with Bones last night could fit into that category. I knew I'd overshot that little authorization of his by more than just a little bit.

Hell, I don't have any idea how much I'd had to drink, but this is the first time I've ever actually blacked out. _Hmmm. _That's not good, is it? Maybe the brain surgery messed up my tolerance for alcohol. Was I a lightweight now? Because that, frankly, would totally suck...and be totally embarrassing. Never mind the other guys at the Bureau. I was quite sure I'd never live it down if Bones could drink me under the table...little Miss 'I don't get drunk.' _Right. _Well, I have no idea if she'd been suffering like I'd been, but...

_Wait a minute. _ What if she didn't black out, but actually remembered what we'd done? I mean, if she was the least bit conscious, with that mnemonic, photographic memory thing she's got, there's no way she would have forgotten, you know, the details. And if she remembered, but was actually pretending she doesn't remember so she can deny that we'd actually done anything...

_Oh, God. _

Maybe she doesn't actually want me. I mean, maybe everything that happened last night—because, blackout or no, I am abso-fucking-lutely certain we had sex last night, because the buttonless buttondown shirt thing was weird, but the crazed-puma hand-scrawled latticework on my back and fingerprint-shaped bruises on my ass...well those combined were absolutely proof beyond a reasonable doubt there that we'd done the deed—but, maybe she regrets it. Could that be it? Maybe she doesn't want to hurt my feelings, so she's constructing this whole, twisted Bonesy logicky thing so she can let me down easy without actually coming out and saying, 'Booth, what we did last night was a mistake, and I don't want it to affect our working relationship, but...'

_Shit. _

_Fuck._

_Double fuck._

_Ugh._

So I was standing there in the doorway, holding my mug of coffee in my hand, and my brain was running like a souped-up Dodge Charger at the Bonneville Salt Flats, with the speed governor override kit, pedal to the metal, a hundred and forty miles an hour, flat out, and there was no stopping it...well, except there was maybe for one little thing.

It was the look in her eyes that got my attention. It was _that_ look. Her pretty pale eyes were glittering back at me, with something flickering behind them, and I knew _something _was going on there. But for the love of God, there was no way I'd be able to really read what was happening there. And while my brain was still roaring across the salt flats, freaking out, my gut was sitting down there simmering as I met her gaze, and I swear, those gears were turning and she was working on some sort of plan.

It both excited me and made me afraid I might start to get hard and thus scared the immortal shit out of me. All things being equal, it was probably more the latter, but even still—_heaven help me, _I thought as I realized that if anything was going to happen, and this Mexican standoff of staring was going to end, someone needed to break the ice.

So, ever the gentleman, I took out my sword and fell on it as I greeted her with a nod.

"So, Bones," I said with a waggle of my eyebrows and a happy grin as I raised my mug of coffee. "Care for some joe? I just made up fresh pot that's ready and waiting if you want some there, Bones."

For whatever reason, as soon as the words were out of my mouth, I suddenly felt really vulnerable, almost silly, really, for having spoken to her using such a stupid tone with such a stupid grin on my face. What an asshole I am. So I quickly looked away and buried my nose in my coffee cup as I waited, with a certain amount of trepidation, to hear what the sleeping princess, now awake, would have to say.

To say I was surprised when she spoke was to put it mildly. But, then again, this is Bones we're talking about here...and with her, the one thing I've always known is to fail to expect the unexpected is at my own risk...and own peril.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **_These two are incorrigible, aren't they? Effin hilarious in their disconnect, eh? Don't worry. You know we'll make it all right in the end. The fun is seeing how we get there. So far, we hope it's been fun. And there'll be more fun before we're done with these two. Lots more fun _*cough* _Trust us._

_Anyone interested in reading about the incident that Brennan references in this chapter about her dream on the flight home from Guatemala? If so, check out the piece posted under Lesera128's profile entited "_A Second Hold for Questioning Request_." It was somemonkey's Christmas/Saturnalia/Epiphany/birthday/just-because gift, and is quite funny if we both do say so ourselves. :-)_

_So, what do you think of this one so far? Please, put that very nice, new and improved, bright and oh-so-sparkly review button to good use. Let us know what you thought of this second installment of "He Said, She Said."_

_Yeah, that's it. That button down there. Mmm-hmmm. Yes, that one. Push it. Oh, yeah, like that._

_Thanks!_


	29. 29—He Said, She Said, Part III

**A Very Bad Idea**

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><p><strong>By<strong>**:** dharmamonkey & Lesera128  
><strong>Rated<strong>**: **M  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>**: **Ummm, nope, we still don't own anything. We have, however, apparently become squatters in the sandbox that we crashed... so, umm... yeah. There we go.

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><p><strong>AN****: **_Apologies for the delay in posting this latest chapter. This time we'll blame our distracted muse *cough...Angel*, the demands of our other big project, "The Inquisitor," and the monkey having to spend three weeks in a row traveling on business. But we're back, baby. At this point, Dharmasera has a lot of fanfic in queue that needs editing. That means we'll be able to feed your addictions all summer long. So, without further ado, let's see what hungry, hungover Booth and Brennan are up to the afternoon after their epic bender/encounter._

**Unf Alert**: _This story is about two people with a raging attraction who wake up next to each other in bed, not entirely clothed, uncertain as to whether they slept together or merely slept next to one another. You do the math, people. So, if you don't like reading about that sort of thing, or shouldn't be, please stop reading. __The rest of you, get your Kleenex out (because we think this thing is funny enough you might just end up in tears before we're done) and a tall glass of ice water, and let's go._

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><p><strong>VIII. He Said, She Said, Part III<strong>

**Pertinent Details on Scenario #8****: **Set during the beginning of episode 5x01: "Harbingers in the Fountain."

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><p>I felt more than saw him watching me. Again, for a man who was one of the U.S. Army's best snipers, I don't know how he did it since he isn't exactly what I would call the silent type...or, for that matter, subtle. But, one minute he wasn't there, and the next he was standing in the doorway. I blinked at him for a minute or so, as I tried to discern whatever it was that he was trying to figure out. He was watching me, and from the perplexed look on his face, I could tell he was concentrating as much mental energy as he could focus on trying to make sense of things...or, at least as much as things make sense in the World According to Booth.<p>

As he stood there looking at me, and I sat there looking back at him, I suppose to an outsider it would have appeared contrived and/or comical. But, the fact of the matter was that we needed a metaphorical time out to try and get our thoughts in order. I could tell he was trying to figure something out by the nervous way he grasped his coffee mug and used his thumb to stroke the thick stoneware handle in almost minute movements. He was biting the inside of his bottom lip again, but more than anything, the dead giveaway that Booth was struggling to make up his mind about something was how he was blinking at me. When he wants it to appear that he's paying attention to someone but, either by choice or necessity, his focus is distracted, he blinks in a seemingly random pattern as the thoughts are going through his mind.

_Blink-blink. Blink-blink-blink. Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink-blink._

I first noticed it about six months after we'd begun working together on a regular basis. Initially, I'd thought that perhaps Booth was attempting to use Morse Code to covertly signal pertinent information to me using his blinking pattern. But, eventually, I figured out that it's just a random tic he has...a tell, really. And, he was doing that blinking pattern thing he does as he stared at me. So, I knew whatever he was thinking about, it had to be important since Booth gets cranky when he has to engage in complex analytical thought before he's had at least two cups of coffee and three glazed donuts (or a Boston Cream and a raspberry-filled jelly donut if the glazed were not available).

As he stared at me, I couldn't help but wonder what had captured his attention so completely. Was it the same question I was struggling with? Or did he already know the answer? Did he know something that I didn't? Is that why he was just standing there in such a seemingly casual manner, sipping his cup of coffee like he was leaning up against the door frame in my office at the lab, and we'd just gotten a case, instead of it being his bedroom door the night after we'd both apparently toppled into a bender that might've thrust us over _his _damn line? Is that what he was grappling with, i.e., how to let me know that he knew what happened, regretted it, and wanted to figure out a way to pretend that such thing had never occurred between us?

_That damn line._

_Fuck._

How much do I hate that damn line?

A lot. Very much. Extremely so. Or, all of the above.

Have I said how much I hate that fucking line?

For more than two years, it's been the bane of my existence. In a way, it's made my life _much _harder than it ever should've been, particularly since that day Booth drew his metaphorical safe zone in the sand at Hillside Park. He got scared with Cam, and then when he almost lost her, instead of reaching out and thanking any deity that would listen in gratitude for not having lost her, he pushed her away. And, if that wasn't bad enough, he then turned around and did the same thing to me in what was a completely unexpected and completely brutal preemptive strike. I-I...I didn't realize it at the time. I didn't. If I had, I think I would've responded a bit more...well, aggressively...than I did that day by merely nodding my complicit understanding and dumb agreement. But, he surprised me, I responded lamely while he stared at me with those piercing brown eyes of his, and the conversation was over before I'd even had a chance to mount a logical counter-attack to his offensive. Because, if I could've, I would've. But, then that begs the question...if I'd done that then, what would've happened between us? Because I know that I wasn't ready back then to deal with how I felt...how I still feel about him. Hell, I'm not even certain I'm ready now, even after we may've already slept together. But, I definitely know I'm a lot better equipped to handle it now than I was then. I'm just not sure where that put us as he was looking at me, the two of us having apparently fumbled our way into some type of Mexican standoff.

I was content to remain quiet for a minute, as I gathered my thoughts. I didn't want to make _any _mistakes this time. For better or worse, I wouldn't have any regrets about things that might or might not happen between Booth and I on this day. So, I'd take my time.

It appeared that Booth was just as content to let the silence weigh over us as he continued to just look at me.

Then, a more practical consideration suddenly shifted the balance of power between us before I'd even realized what had happened once more. One minute, he was standing there in the doorway. He was holding his coffee mug in his hand and sipping it from it, and he continued to look at me, the pungent aroma was starting to permeate the bedroom. I couldn't help but relax a bit as I felt the warm, soothing scent invade my senses. After another moment, and one more deep breath, I looked up at him, and finally registered that he'd actually spoken...and asked me a question to boot.

_Did I want any coffee? _

It took about 0.25 seconds for me to come up with an appropriate answer.

_Hell, yes_.

"Where's mine?" I finally managed to ask, my brow furrowing a bit in displeasure as I looked from one hand to the other as if I expected him to conjure it from thin air.

He arched an eyebrow at me and responded, "So, I guess that's a 'yes?'"

For some reason, his response irked me. He asked me if I wanted coffee, implying an offer by the way he'd made his statement. But, still, he hadn't made an effort to procure one for me...like he always does, whether we're at a crime scene, en route to an interview or interrogation, or just at the lab or at the Hoover working. That's what Booth does—he brings me coffee. So, I didn't know what he was expecting when I stared at him expectantly and then became annoyed the more time passed and that I went without any coffee, despite the fact that I'd registered my preference for my own serving of the delicious-smelling caffeinated beverage.

Frowning again, my impatience finally got the better of me as I asked, "Aren't you going to go and bring me a cup?" I blinked at him, thinking that might buy me at least a minute or two more as I awaited for the supplies that would come from the delivery guy courtesy of Thai Village.

For his part, Booth gave me a strange look and then nodded his head slightly in response. "Yeah," he shrugged with a huffed laugh. "I'll go get you one."

"And bring it back here," I stipulated, knowing I was being a bit more demanding than most people would probably be in such situation. But, then again, it's not like I don't know what I can't get away with as far as Booth is concerned and what I can't. Bringing me a cup of coffee was a rather small thing in the grand scheme of things. I knew he'd go and get one for me if I asked, so that's why I did it. He confirmed my assumptions a few seconds later when he spoke.

"Roger that," he replied with a faint smirk as he shot me another strange look before he turned to leave. "I'll be right back."

When he disappeared, I turned around and scanned the rumpled sheets and other bed linens as my mind went back to the question that had been perplexing me since I'd woken up in Booth's bed earlier that morning.

Had we or hadn't we had sex?

Instinctively, my nose twitched to see if I could still smell anything in the air. After all, if Booth and I had finally had sex, the room should've reeked of it, right? I took in the sight before me wondering what further evidence the bedding might reveal. My eyes darted over the various places I could see as I attempted to ascertain whether the linens might offer any telltale signs that are sometimes visible when a couple has intercourse. However, Booth's grey bed linens didn't really have any overt signs that screamed to me that a couple—any couple, that is—had recently had sex in that bed. As my eyes darted to the clock, I began to wonder how much of the evidence would logically still be present given that it had been a minimum of twelve hours, if not more, since any possible exchange of bodily fluids might've transpired. With a sigh, I realized that unless I retrieved my UV light from my purse—which I wasn't necessarily above doing if I couldn't figure out an answer to this conundrum one way or another—the sheets probably weren't going to give up any secrets to me. Sighing, I made a face as I reached for the pillows and fluffed them, arranging them behind me as I sat up and tried to avoid wincing a bit from the dull throb that I'd just begun to register in my lower back.

_Wait...what?_

My back...damn it. My back was suddenly hurting. Almost as if the pain receptors in my lower lumbar region had suddenly realized that my conscious mind was now aware of the discomfort they were registering, I swear that somehow it seemed that the pain increased tenfold in less than thirty seconds. From a physiological standpoint, I know that's impossible to have actually occurred, but I can't explain it. My back _really _started to hurt in that moment.

_What in the hell did we do last night?_

My scowl deepened as I tried to shift into a comfortable position. After a minute, and several grunts as I realized that there would be no substantial relief without a hot shower, analgesics, and/or a thorough massage by a talented masseuse, I finally settled into the position that I thought to be the least painful. And, because I was feeling quite generous, but also because I didn't want to lose the logistical advantage of keeping things in the bedroom until I'd figured out what had actually happened (and what might need to happen again), I tossed a lone pillow on the far side of the bed. Deciding that I was as ready as I'd ever be, I reached for the flat sheet and the comforter, I wrapped them loosely around my lower body, and expectantly waited for Booth to return.

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><p>I didn't mind getting her a cup of coffee. I mean, hell, I'd offered her one, basically, so it was only kinda fair, I guess, that I trot my ass out to go and get her one. I'm serious. I didn't really mind getting her a cup of coffee. I do it all the time. It's almost as much of a <em>thing <em>as her stealing my fries, you know—come to think of it, why do all of our _schtiks _seem like they have to do with me giving or getting things for her? _Hmmm_.

But, anyway, Bones is a coffee drinker, and she's at least as much of a caffeine addict as I am—maybe more so because she drinks more of it, since she has easy access to the Jeffersonian's fancy Starbucks stuff, while I'm stuck with the lightly-filtered pine-tar that passes as coffee at the Hoover—and, since I'd just burnished the edge of my own hangover by guzzling a cup of joe, it still didn't entirely explain the pissy way she'd responded to my very pleasant offer. No, what irritated me was the way she'd suddenly gotten so snippy with me. I mean, shit—I'd just let her snooze off her hangover in my bed, hogging all the covers and pillows, and not grumbled about it. At all. Not one bit. I was doing the chivalrous thing, because that's the kinda guy I am, giving her space to work through this thing in her head, and being pretty cool about the whole thing, in my opinion, but then she has to get all snit-tastic on me.

_What the fuck?_

Am I being unreasonable here?

_Hmmm_.

I don't think so.

Anyway, feeling a bit like I was some kind of diner waitress who'd been sent away after bringing the wrong kind of toast ('I ordered dry rye, not white'), I turned around and padded my way back to the kitchen, pausing to take another slurp of my coffee before setting it down on the counter and reaching up into my cabinet to find a suitably inoffensive mug for Bones. Shoving aside my very awesome Steelers 1995 AFC Championship commemorative mug, and my even more glorious Steelers Super Bowl mugs (2005, 2008 and 2010, baby!), and then pushing aside my Phillies and Flyers mugs—seriously, I didn't realize I had that damn many of these things that didn't reflect my team loyalties—I finally found a "World's Greatest Dad" mug that Parker (read: Rebecca) had bought me for Father's Day a couple of years ago. I rummaged around and found a couple of packets of sugar, dumped them into Bones' mug, then poured the DnD coffee on top of the sugar. It was a technique I'd perfected over the years of making up coffees in the FBI breakrooms where the only available stirrers were those piece of shit red plastic straw thingies that don't really stir shit unless it's already half-stirred in to begin with. I turned around, grabbed my mug and topped myself off with a warm-up, and was about to walk back into the bedroom with our two cups when Bones called out from the bedroom.

"Hey, Booth? Can you go into my bag and get me an elastic? Unless you've got one I can use lying around here somewhere, please?"

I froze for a second. _An elastic? _For a few seconds there, I wasn't sure what the H-E-double hockeysticks she was asking me for—what, did she think I was Office Depot, with a ready supply of rubber bands and paper clips for all her personal stationary needs? And what did she want a rubber band for? Was she gonna use it the way Hodgins used to, snapping it against her wrist to break herself of some kind of bad habit? (And, if so, was I going to get to have any input into which bad habits she'd use the rubber band method to break herself of? Naww. Probably not.)

Then the lightbulb went off, and I realized she was looking for a ponytail-holder. She does look cute in a ponytail. _Heh. _But I had no idea where I'd find a damn ponytail-holder thingy in my apartment. Hell, it's not like I keep a stash around for her, right? I don't even know where I'd buy 'em even if I wanted to set myself up a stash of hair-thingies. I mean, is this something I can just buy at the supermarket? Even if I could, I'd bet you dimes to donuts that whatever kind of hair-thingies that Bones uses is not going to be the kind I can find without having to spend three hours going up and down the chicky aisles at the store. I thought about it for another minute and then I remembered she'd actually left one on my coffee table a few months back, you know, before my surgery, and I remembered wondering what it was and where it came from. I think I'd ended up using it to secure some loose cables behind my TV, but I sure as fuck wasn't gonna go yank out all the cords running between my TV and speakers so that she can pull her hair back. That's where I draw the line, okay? So—

Once I figured out what she was actually asking me for, I found myself facing a second problem: I had no idea where the hell her bag was. For a minute, I even had to think what bag she was even talking about since the first thought that popped into my head was that the elastic bit was her way of telling me she'd finally stopped joshing me and was finally copping to the fact that we hadn't only had sex, but that she'd actually had the balls to have packed an overnight bag—since if anyone would have the stainless steel set of cajones to pull something like that off, of course, it'd be Bones—and she'd left it somewhere. I'd opened my mouth to say something—I wasn't quite sure which point I'd settled on, i.e., either addressing the fact that she was admitting we'd done the deed (and, if so, could we please fucking do it again...ASAP?), or that she'd left her bag in some weird place in the apartment that she expected me to find like I was a goddamn water diviner with some magic divining rod that I could use to find it.

However, before I could open my mouth, my eyes darted around the kitchen and entryway, and a quick scan of my foyer revealed her trusty old waxed canvas messenger bag was unceremoniously stowed underneath the table where I usually dumped my mail. I walked over and picked up her bag, set it on the mail table and opened the flap, but, seeing all of the papers and folders and little zippered pockets and various other tools of the trade that she always lugged around with her like her magic voodoo black light, I decided that I probably didn't have a snowball's chance in hell at finding a little hair elastic in that bottomless pit. So, I shrugged, slung the bag over my shoulder, grabbed the coffees off the counter, and began to wander my way back into the bedroom.

But, before I'd even taken two steps, her voice rang out again. "And, hey, Booth? Don't forget the milk, please! I think I'd like some milk in my coffee this morning. But, milk...not half and half."

"I thought you just took sugar," I muttered to myself, narrowing my eyes in confusion.

Is this something else I'd forgotten about after my coma, or is she just fucking with me? So this is the morning of all mornings that she decides to go against type and turn over a new coffee-drinking leaf? Hell, I've only been watching Bones drink coffee for, what, the last five years, and now I can't remember how she takes her joe? _Fuck. _

With another sigh, I opened the fridge and pulled out the quart of whole milk—because I wouldn't dream of drinking that skim milk shit since it never tastes right with my Captain Crunch or Cocoa Puffs in the morning. I'm not really sure how it can make such awesome cereals taste bad, but it does. It tastes like white water, and I don't mean the kind you go rafting in. That's why I never buy anything but whole milk. I unscrewed the plastic cap on the carton and, after glancing to see if Bones was watching me through the open door, but seeing that she was putzing around with the covers on the bed, I took a whiff to make sure the milk hadn't gone bad. _Good, _I thought_. At least I've got that goin' for me, huh? _I poured a splash of milk in her coffee, gave it a quick stir, then put the miraculously still-good milk back in the fridge and—take two—walked back to the bedroom with two coffees and her canvas bag in tow.

"Here," I said, setting her coffee on her nightstand as I'd made my way to her side of the bed.

'_Her' nightstand? _I thought to myself. _ 'Her' side of the bed? When the fuck did that happen? Hmmm. _

"I wasn't sure where you'd keep your hair-thingies in there," I said, setting her bag on the bed in front of her. "So I just brought the whole bag in, Bones."

I sat down on the edge of the bed, just in front of her feet, and took a long sip of my coffee, hissing a little as it seared the tip of my tongue. "Ouch," I grumbled, quickly looking over at Bones and then averting my eyes as I waited for the inevitable lecture from her on the safe consumption of hot liquids. "Did I give you enough milk?" I asked, hoping she'd spare me the safety speech complete with requisite citations of appropriate consumer case law to back up her points about some idiots who didn't take Mickey D's serious when they said the coffee was hot. _Duh._

Fortunately, luck seemed to be on my side as Bones seemed more interested in the contents of her bag than pontificating to me in her inimitable squint-style as she does from time to time. Instead, she reached for her bag, and began to rummage around in one of the inner pockets as she asked absentmindedly, "What color is it?"

I shook my head as my brow furrowed in confusion. "What?" I asked, a bit taken aback by her question. "What do you mean, what color is it?"

"The coffee?" she said hopefully as she barely glanced up at me as she continued to rummage around in her bag. "What color is it?" she asked again. "Is it more like milk chocolate brown or more like a creamy light brown color?"

I rolled my eyes a little and laughed. "Bones," I said. "I'm a guy, I don't do colors." I shook my head and scratched my head a little. I'm lucky if I can freakin' match my damn socks, right? Although, in my defense, the whole navy blue vs. faded black sock thing _is_ a huge problem. It's one that truly deserves some kind of Manhattan Project devoted to it, so us guys can, once and for all, can be saved the embarrassment of wearing unmatched socks to work. Women with their nylon stockings just don't have this problem. Yet again the fairer sex gets the fairer side of the bargain. Figures. "Just look for yourself and tell me if it's okay. If it's not, I'll go get you some more milk, okay?"

This time, she shot me a look that said I'd clearly annoyed her since I wouldn't conform to her little analytical exercise in coffee color spectrum analysis. As she narrowed her pale eyes at me, I sighed and then finally gave in as I told her, "Fine. I guess it's more like light brown than chocolate. But, just look and then you can let me know if I screwed it up, and I'll either give you more milk or add more coffee, alright? Problem solved in either case."

"Come on, Booth," she grumbled. "It's not like I'm asking you to do a visual analysis using the Munsell Color scale. Is it more like a Hershey Bar or closer to those white chocolate almond bark pieces that you always wheedle me into getting for you when I'm at Godiva?"

_Wheedle? _I smirked. It's only because I have impeccable taste, and the shit at Godiva is absolutely amazing, I mean, it's _da shizzle..._dare I say even foodgasm-inducing? I mean, I'm a Pennsylvania boy through and through, but even I have enough self-respect to admit that Godiva is amazing awesomely sugary goodness stuff. I'd have to be out of my damn mind _not _to ask her to buy me Godiva when she's, you know, there. So, I do. Big deal. Waste not, want not, right?

In any case, now she was just being difficult for the sake of being difficult, and I wasn't sure why. _Always the hard way with her, _I told myself. "You know, in the time it's taken you to give me the whole spiel on color theory, you could've just looked over and told me if I gave you enough milk."

"Yes," she agreed, as she triumphantly reached into her bag and pulled out a black elastic. She took her find and began to pull her hair into one of those messy ponytails that she just always looks so damn cute in...As she tucked some loose wisps of hair that had escaped the ponytail behind her ears, she smiled as she said, "But, then I wouldn't have found this." She stopped and glanced over at the coffee mug. "That'll be sufficient...I suppose."

_I suppose? _

"Phew," I said in an exaggerated expression of relief as I wiped my brow. "Thank God for small friggin' favors, huh, Bones? Coffee disaster averted. We should write out a press release and then call CNN."

For another few seconds, she shot another scowl at me, took a sip of her coffee and muttered, "I said it would do, Booth, even if it's not what I really want." She narrowed her eyes, then raised the mug to her lips again. She hesitated for a moment, letting the mug down an inch or two, then I saw the tip of her tongue dart out between her lips for a couple of seconds before disappearing again as she raised the mug to her mouth again and took another sip.

Some people have this mannerism of holding their tongue between their lips when they're thinking about something—I've been told I do this, but I don't really think I do it all _that _often—but I've never seen Bones do this. No, but right then...well, fuck me. But, she stuck her tongue out for some reason, whether conscious or unconscious. And the minute I saw that that pretty little pink tongue of hers peeking out of that gorgeous mouth of hers, I was pretty sure she wasn't just talking about coffee anymore.

_Hmmm, _I thought. _I wonder what she really wants. _Reminded of the gouges she'd marked her territory by carving Bonesy hieroglyphics so beautifully into my back as I turned a bit to look at her, I smiled at the thought of what she clearly wanted last night—you know, _me_—and wondered if she wanted more. _Oh, please, Jesus. Let it be so...or, at least very least, a man can only hope. right?_

Nibbling a little on the inside of my lip as I tried to suppress a snicker, I asked cautiously, "What _do_ you really want, Bones?"

"Uhhh, some more milk for my coffee?" she clarified as she blinked at me hopefully, her voice seemingly devoid of anything vaguely flirtatious or even sarcastic. _Damn._

"Oh," I replied, unable to keep the disappointment from bleeding into my voice. "How 'bout I just go grab the milk and bring it in here so you can make sure you get just what you want, okay?"

Without waiting for her reply, I stood up, retrieved the milk carton from the kitchen and brought it back to her. I opened for her and nodded for her to offer up her mug so I could top her up on milk. She held her mug out as I said, "I bet it's nice to be back to civilization and all of the, you know, luxuries of first world living, huh?"

I was making polite conversation for some weird reason, and then, after as nice as I was getting the coffee and bringing Bones her bag, you know what she did? She kicked me.

_Son of a bitch_.

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><p>After I'd gotten my hair off my neck, I felt a bit better. A few sips of Booth's coffee was also starting to make me feel just a bit more alert and like my normal self as I set the coffee cup back on the nightstand. Overall, I <em>was <em>feeling better than how I'd felt when I'd first awakened. However, the pain in my back was still there, and my pain receptors were getting more and more persistent in letting my brain know that I'd fucked up my lower lumbar back muscles in some way, and I was not going to pay for it until I addressed the situation. I shifted my legs in the bed a bit, adjusting from how I'd been sitting with my knees pulled up to my best so that I was sitting Indian style under the covers. Neither one of them really brought my sore muscles any relief.

_Goddamn it, what did we do last night? Some type of regimen that was designed to test every possible sexual position that a male and female can shift into while having intercourse? Fuck, Booth_—

I frowned as I sighed and straightened out my legs. Then, quite unintentionally, I lightly kicked Booth in the leg as he finished asking me some question about first world living conditions.

"Hey!" he yelped as he jumped about a foot off the bed, but, quite impressively, managed to retain control of his half-full coffee mug and didn't actually spill any of the hot brown liquid on himself or the bed.

The manual dexterity that he displayed in that moment made me wonder if perhaps he was more limber in bed that I'd initially thought, and was, in fact, a culpable party in contributing to whatever circumstances wrecked my back. _Hmmmm._ Interesting.

Once he was seated and realized that my sudden movement hadn't done any significant damage, he scowled at me and said, "Hey, Pele. Watch it, okay? We aren't going for any shots on goal or field goal points, so no kicking, huh?"

"Errr, sorry," I said, a bit sheepishly. "My legs hurt, and I can't seem to get comfortable no matter which position I try."

Pausing, I reached out and grabbed my mug of coffee off of the nightstand. I took another, still somewhat tentative sip, and when I found that, especially after adding more milk, the temperature of the caffeinated liquid wouldn't scald my mouth, I downed the mug's contents in a few gulps.

Extending the empty mug to Booth, I brushed my mouth with the back of my free hand and said, "Thanks."

He stared at me for a minute and then said, with what seemed to be a somewhat insincere smile on his face, "Wow, Bones," he said. "I'm not sure what kind of guzzlefest we had last night, but if you inhaled beers last night anywhere near as quick as you just destroyed that cup of joe, it's no wonder we're both a mess this morning...or this afternoon...or whatever the hell time it is." His forehead crinkled as he looked around for his alarm clock. "What time is it, anyway?"

I couldn't help but frown at his words. Did he think I was a mess? Is that his way of saying that I was displeasing aesthetically? I mean, is that...is that his way of telling me that he wasn't attracted to me? Was that it?

I wasn't very happy about this circumstance. I wasn't very happy about it at all. And, I was becoming even further annoyed with this apparent inability to have a direct conversation about what had happened last night between us that had somehow manifested.

Ignoring his question, I leveled my stare at him as I said, "Do you think I'm a mess?"

"Wait, what?" he gulped. "No—no, that's not what I meant. What I mean is...aww, come on, Bones...you know I think you look great all the time..." He seemed generally taken aback by my direct question, and was fumbling for the right response. "What I meant to say was, well...we both woke up this morning—and I, uhhhh, think we woke up before noon, right?" He paused again and his eyes darted to the window as if it had some mysterious source of insight to provide to him. My frown deepened as he nodded to himself, looked back from the window to me, and continued, "Yeah, we did...at least I think we did. But, uhhh, what I meant was, earlier, that we both woke up hungover as all hell, and...well..." He bit his lip and looked away, then brought his eyes back up to meet mine. "I mean, you know. Half-dressed?"

I sighed and blinked at him for a couple of times. I still wasn't ready to have this part of the conversation yet despite my initial direct question of if he thought I looked like I was a mess. My head still hurt, my body was still sore, and I was still hungry. The caffeine from the coffee hadn't completely kicked in yet, and it was possible that he'd given me an answer to the secondary question I'd tentatively decided I needed to find a response for before I could determine if we'd actually had sex, even if the evidence seemed to be piling up in the affirmative category despite my earlier opinion to the contrary.

My eyes shifted to stare out the bedroom door towards the outer room of the apartment, and I sighed as I thought, _Damn it, where is that delivery guy?_

And, then, my somewhat frazzled mental processes finally caught up, and I processed the significance of Booth's cumulative ramblings.

_He said he thought I looked great all the time._

Hmmm. Well, that was a positive sign. Because, he said it with such a fumbled lack of verbal adroitness, I doubted he could be insincere in sharing that bit of information with me. A flush of warmth spread throughout my chest as my frown softly transitioned to a small smile. I blinked shyly at him a couple of times, at a loss for what to say or to do next. Fortunately—and although I don't believe in fate or anything like that, I do believe in fortuitous timing—it was at that exact moment that a sharp rap came on the apartment's front door.

"Who the hell could that be?" Booth grunted with a slight frown, standing up and staring into his coffee cup for a minute, before moving towards the bedroom door.

While Booth was confused as to who could be knocking on his door, I had a sneaking suspicion I knew _exactly _who it was...and I knew I needed to get to him before Booth did. Despite how much my back ached, with a rather impressive series of movements of my own, aided by a surge of adrenaline, I said in a bit too perky a voice, "Ummm, I'll get it." I then kicked off the sheet and down comforter. I winced a bit as a I shifted on my legs, stood up, and trotted on shaky feet around Booth, out the bedroom door, and towards the front door before he'd even realized what I'd just done.

"What?" Booth called after me. "Hey, Bones—wait..."

If I wasn't mistaken, as I walked, I thought I could feel his eyes on me for a minute. But, I don't think it could've lasted for very long as I quickly heard his heavy footfall come up behind me. As soon as I reached the front door, I pulled it open once I heard a confirmation from the visitor that he'd come to deliver my Thai food. After I greeted him, I took the credit card slip, signed it, and handed it to the delivery boy before I took the box of food that he had brought for me. Thanking him, I nodded my head in goodbye before I turned around and inhaled a wonderful deep breath of the tantalizing aromas coming from the box. I smiled as some of the tension that had been in my upper body melted away, and I felt a satisfying warmth of anticipation spread throughout my body that had nothing to do with Booth. Quite pleased with myself in that moment, I didn't stop to give Booth a second look as I brushed back past him and headed towards the bedroom, taking my treasure box with me as I went.

* * *

><p>When I first heard the knock on the door, I immediately assumed it was either the landlord coming over to complain about somebody being parked in his reserved space out front, or else Angela stalking Bones. She's a good friend, but does tend to get a bit overprotective at times. So I was completely taken by surprise when Bones—who until that moment had shown little or no inclination to get up off her <em>tuchos <em>and do anything other than lay in my bed and hog my pillows—leapt out of bed, still wearing only a pair of panties on bottom, and ran to the door.

_My door...what the hell?_

As soon as she opened it, I saw the delivery guy standing there with a crooked, flat-brimmed Nats cap and a cardboard liquor box full of Asian takeout. I'd barely made my way towards the door before Bones had signed the credit card slip, closed the door behind her and started back towards the bedroom hugging the box of food to her chest.

_Excuse me? _This is my apartment, thank you very much. Who in the hell did she think she was just up and ordering takeout from _my_ phone, to _my _apartment, and then moseying her way back to _my _bedroom to nosh on her purchases?

Answer: Bones.

_Geezus_...

For a second there, I thought about saying something to her about charging her rent. Then, the smell of panang sauce hit my nose and I pretty much forgot how indignant I was about her cheeky, presumptuous behavior. I just wanted some of that freakin' Thai goodness. And so did my stomach, which took the opportunity to remind me how hungry it was—having finally shaken the whole _'If you even think about putting food near me right now I'm gonna puke up every ounce of whatever I've still got in me' _hangover thing—by grumbling loudly as I followed her back into the bedroom.

Okay, I'd totally missed something—specifically, breakfast and lunch—because somehow, after a little DnD coffee appetizer, Bones decided we were skipping ahead to dinner. As if my totally fucked up body clock needed any more help turning my days and nights upside down after the hell of a bender we'd just had, Bones had apparently found time to phone in an order of dinner for lunch.

When the fuck did she have time to do that? And how...?

As she trotted back towards the bedroom with her box of goodies, I turned around and looked at the clock on the stove. _4:43. _Hmmm. Alright, so it's almost time for dinner. But, still.

"What's that, Bones?" I called out after her, raising one eyebrow as I watched her carry the box of takeout back into the bedroom. "Dinner? Seriously? Did this turn into a B&B at some point, I missed it? And who says you get to eat dinner in my bed, huh? I mean, my bed's for sleeping and watching TV and drinking the occasional shake and...well...other stuff, but not for eating. I have a dining room table and a coffee table in front of the sofa for that."

She considered his words for a minute and then narrowed her eyes before she shook her head. "I'm hungry," she as she studied him. "I'm hungry, and I want to eat, and my back hurts—so, yes, I think it'll be better if I eat here. Is that a problem for you, Booth?"

So, activating my Boothy translation special powers, it didn't take me long to figure out that Bones had just basically told me, in her uniquely Bonesy way, that she didn't really give a rat's ass what my preferences were or what the rules were in my house about eating in bed. She was gonna eat in bed. Period. End of story._ El fin_.

_Great._

You know, she always does this. She says something and just because she thinks that she's the smartest smarty pants on the block, she can just use logic and reason to browbeat the people around her into doing what she wants done just because she wants it—_wait. _

_Stop. Wait, wait, wait._

_Wait, _I thought. _Her back hurts? _I scratched my head. _Is that what she just said? Really? Because if it is...well, then it's not just me with the bumps and bruises from last night's boomchickawowow, _I thought with an inward smirk. Then, as soon as the thought really registered in my mind, I instantly felt bad. I hate it when she's hurting. I really do. And I didn't like it at all that she was hurting because of what we'd done the night before, whatever exactly it was that we did, the purpose of which was to feel good, and to make the other person feel good.

I had figured that I was the only one that was a bit bruised and battered after our sadly-forgotten but obviously epic union the night before, but apparently I was wrong. I wondered what other little details she was keeping from me. Now, I've never been much of a biter, but I've been known to gift the right neck with a nice hickey or two. But, her back, huh? I wondered what was up with _that_. A smirk flashed across my face as I thought of what kind of absolutely wild monkeysex we must've had that she's hurting—images of her contorting and writhing under me that had been some of the leading tracks off the _Best of Bones: The Jacking-off Collection _skipped into my mind for a second, and just for a minute, I felt a slight tugging in my groin at the thought—because backaches are definitely _not _a hangover symptom.

But, then my smirk faded, and I felt myself frown at the thought that she was in pain...and the irony of the fact that she was the one who'd woken up with a fucked back wasn't lost on me. Maybe God had decided to reward me for my selfless sharing of my pillows after all. However, that overprotective caretaker feeling I tend to have wherever Bones is concerned kicked in at the moment. I even tuned out the yummy smells of Thai goodness that were less than two feet away from me as I nodded at her.

"Your back hurts?" I asked. I waited for her to nod before I sighed and said, "Geez, Bones, why didn't you tell me earlier? You want another Advil?"

"Maybe after I east," Brennan said. "I think any analgesics might work better on a full stomach."

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, my own stomach grumbled again. I suddenly realized that Bones' Thai excellence was a whole hell of a lot better than any shitty second-rate breakfast I could cobble together, so I conceded the point to her, even if it was pretty cheeky to snarf supper in my bed without at least pretending to ask permission. A smile brightened my face as I nodded at her and said, "Okay, cool." I then added after a very brief pause, "So, uhhhh, do we need plates, or are we just gonna eat out of the cartons here?"

She stared at me for a minute and then slowly shook her head. "No, I'm fine...thanks." She paused before she shot me a sly look and added, "And, what do you mean are 'we' eating out of the cartons?"

"Right," I said, knowing she wasn't serious but wanting to just torture me a bit. Resisting the urge to roll my eyes at her, just in case she'd decided to turn over a new leaf and be a total hardass about sharing the takeout since I really did want some, I nodded simply, "Sure. Okay." She blinked at me almost a minute as I waited for her to cave and tell me which carton was mine. When she didn't I scowled a bit at her and said, "Awwww, come on, Bones. You aren't really going to sit in _my _bed in _my _apartment hoarding enough Thai takeout to feed a starving family of four for at least three days, and leave me to rummage around in the kitchen and make myself up a day-old bagel with cream cheese and maybe have some Oreos or Gummie Bears for dessert if I can find them, are you?" I shot her a look and rolled my eyes. "Because, if you are, that's fine with me, but I just want to know one way or the other."

"Okay," she nodded when I'd finished talking, apparently satisfied with my suggestions. "That sounds like an excellent plan. I concur."

_Damn it._

I leaned my head back and sighed. "Seriously, Bones?" I asked. "I know you aren't sitting there with that wicked-smelling stuff and refusing to share it with me, because that it just wrong. Plain wrong. It goes against the FBI Partner's Handbook Code of Conduct, Section 447, Paragraph 22, Subparagraph 5. So, I know that's not what you're doing. Because it counts as torture, really." I hesitated before I more firmly nodded. "Yeah, definitely torture. The pure evil kind that's definitely prohibited by the Geneva Convention, ya know. And even if it wasn't, I never pegged you as the sado-masochistic type. I mean, I don't think you'd ever be that cruel, even if you are hungry, hungover, sore, and maybe a little cranky, so come on, Bones, huh?" I immediately realized that in uttering the word 'cranky' and 'Bones' in the same sentence, I was setting myself up for a smackdown and tried to backpedal before she verbally bitch-slapped me like she normally does to squints or other academics that have pissed her off. She doesn't usually do it to me, at least not since the first year we'd worked together, but given the weird fucking day we'd both had, I wasn't going to take any chances. "Not that you wouldn't have every reason to be cranky under the present circumstances, and I'm not saying that maybe I'm not a little cranky, too, even if you are cranky, but I'm not saying that you are for sure, but if you are—"

As I sputtered and tried to recover, Bones simply reached for a carton and pulled out a vegetarian summer roll. She licked her lips for a minute and then opened her mouth wide before she bit down with a bit of a vicious bite and then let out the type of moan I'd long hoped she'd make in my bed—just not because of food.

_Son of a bitch._

She blinked at me for a minute, chewing in an unusually pronounced way, almost as if to leave no doubt in my head that she was savoring the spring roll just to punish me. Another loud rumble of my stomach reminded me I was in no place to negotiate and total, unconditional surrender was my only option if I wanted any food from her. But, still—I have my standards...so I did try one last tactic.

"Come on, Bones," I pleaded, my voice teetering on the edge of a whine. "I made you coffee and brought you your bag and everything. I let you sleep in my bed and take all the pillows and covers, and I didn't bitch at all. So, come on—take pity on a guy, for heaven's sakes, huh?"

She chewed and swallowed the bite of the summer roll she'd eaten. Giving me a devious smile, she said, "You _have _made a good start on earning some Thai goodness, as I believe you've called it before, but not quite enough, I think, to earn a sampling of the most excellent food I've procured. So, the question is...what else are you willing to do to get some?"

_What am I willing to do get some? _I miraculously managed to suppress a snicker at that one. _Heh._

Ahh, yes—there it was. A part of me was expecting when this bit of our routine would show up. I know it well...very, _very _well. This is the part of our thing where she's a cat on the prowl, and I'm her favorite ball of yarn. It's her _schtik_, or one of them, anyway. She particularly likes the deprive-Booth-of-food variant on this little game, which is sometimes mildly amusing, but when I'm hungover as fuck and my stomach's growling like a rabid polar bear because I haven't had a damn thing to eat since, well, I wasn't exactly sure when, but in any case, I was pretty damn hungry, and I wasn't really in the mood to play that type of game. But, still, she had the food, and since I wanted some, and she knew I knew she knew it, I was screwed.

_Damn it._

"Okay," I muttered. "So, is this some kind of guessing game exercise, or is this like a bidding thing, where I offer up some kind of exchange and you decide if you'll accept it?" I rolled my eyes in an exaggerated way to register my mild annoyance.

"Try me," she offered, a bit of playfulness coming into her voice. "And find out."

_Right. _

Okay. I'm not sure when someone flipped the playful switch on Miss Crankypants, but something had shifted for her in about the last five minutes. Maybe the spring rolls were better than I remembered, because I could definitely tell she was feeling better...and that meant I was fucked. It was just a question of how fucked and under what circumstances. See, when I do this sort of thing with Bones, I frequently feel like I brought a knife to a gunfight, because she's way, way smarter than I am. And, more importantly in this situation, she has the damn food and, hence, all the bargaining power. So, like I said, I knew I was pretty much fucked...it was just a question of how badly.

"Well," I began. "I suppose you want me to offer up something like, you know, when I get reinstated and get my SUV back, I'll let you drive. But no, that's not on the auction block there so, hmmm. Let me see."

I stared at her for a minute, trying to figure out what she wanted. What the hell could I offer her? Well, there was always..._heh_...well, I knew what I really wanted to offer her, but...

_Nope, _I told myself. _Not the time, Booth. Okay? _She clearly wasn't anywhere near the frame of mind for that kind of offer, even if she was half-dressed and sitting in my bed, so I mentally slapped myself and brought my mind back to the matter at hand.

She's got more money than you can shake a stick at, so I knew me offering to take her out to dinner or whatever probably wasn't gonna win the day. Offering to take her to a ballgame—well, even though I knew Bones to be a closet baseball fan, she'd see right through that and accuse me of offering her something that's really something I want and not what she wants, even if she actually _did _want it, so that wasn't gonna work, either. I could make her something, like dinner, but...well...I've done that before and something told me that wasn't gonna quite cut it. I wracked my mind trying to think of something I could offer her that she'd actually accept.

_Why did she have to be so...complicated?_

"Make me an offer, Booth," she said encouragingly after the silence had gone on between us for a very long minute or two.

"Okay. How about this? Free home repairs or other manual labor for a week?" I finally tried as I made my first offer.

"What kind of manual labor?" she asked with an arched eyebrow.

_Hmmm. _I narrowed my eyes, trying to discern whether she was just getting snarky and quippy with me, or if she was actually flirting with me. I was hoping for the latter. _Is she really...wait...she's not...she's not actually flirting with me, right? _I couldn't figure out if she was really still busting my balls in her usual Bones fashion or if she had upshifted into innuendo. _I swear she's fucking with me...right?_

"Whatever kind you need, Bones," I replied. "I'm very handy, and strong. And, as you well know, I'm a very hard worker."

She blinked at me and then tilted her head at me. Maybe I was going fucking nuts from my impromptu hunger strike, combined with the delayed alcohol poisoning that I was sure I was suffering from, but I could've sworn that the timbre and pitch of her voice had changed.

_What the fuck?_

"Handy perhaps being a synonym for good with your hands?" she questioned with her own eyes narrowing as she spoke, her voice still completely devoid of any type of indication if she was serious...or something else.

"Absolutely," I said, adding as I'm pretty certain my voice had dropped a half-octave as I edged my toe over the line into mild innuendo. She wasn't waving the checkered flag there, but I could tell, sense really, that something, somehow, had changed. I struggled to put my finger on it. Her voice wasn't really all that different, though there was something very subtle, a very slight edge to her voice that I might not have even noticed but for the circumstances we'd found ourselves in—waking up next to each other in bed, half-dressed, my back and backside all scratched up and bruised, and her with a sore back—but it was so subtle, I started second-guessing myself. But there was something in her eyes, just a little flicker, a twinkle of laughter, and for a moment, just a fleeting second, I swore I'd seen her flash me that sexy half-grin of hers. But maybe I was seeing what I wanted to see. I wasn't sure I'd seen what I thought I'd seen, and even more unsure why exactly it had all of a sudden shifted, but there was something there that wasn't there before. I knew it. I refrained from wagging my eyebrows at her just to be on the safe side, but couldn't help but add, "I've always been very good with my hands, Bones...and very resourceful."

She stared at me for a moment, and then nodded. "Fine. Here's my offer. You get one carton, and in exchange—but only after we've eaten—we're going to test the validity of your assertion. You say you have good hands..."

"Yeah," I said with a snicker that I made no attempt to suppress this time. "So what, you want me to build you a treehouse or something?"

"No," she replied simply with a small shake of her head. "That won't be necessary."

"Hmmmm," I murmured. "Then what can I do to demonstrate my handiness in exchange for some of those tender Thai vittles there?"

"I would suggest," she nodded. "That after we've eaten, I want to see how good those hands of yours are at working me over...that is, my back muscles." She stopped and flushed a bit as she looked up at me and added, "Agreed?"

_Sweet Mary, Mother of God. _I am pretty damn sure my face must have lit up like the White House Christmas tree at hearing her 'offer.' _If I'm still asleep, God, please don't wake me up, because this is about to get potentially really awesome. _I hesitated for perhaps a millisecond, tops, then blurted out, "Sure, Bones. No problem. I can definitely help you out there. I mean, hell, you've put those magic fingers of yours to work for my benefit several times. It's only fair that I offer you the same service in return, you know, in your hour of need."

"Right," she said after she stared at me for a full minute. "Agreed. Now, which one do you want?"

I was tempted to tell her to fuck the cartons and just go for the main course of Bonesy-goodness that I couldn't quite figuring out why she was offering me, but what the fuck. Until she told me different, I was going to see how far we could push this thing and maybe, if I was lucky, I'd get lucky again...and be lucky enough actually to remember it this time.

True, that's a lot of luck. But, hey...I was suddenly feeling pretty good. Maybe it was gonna turn out to be my lucky day after all...in more ways than one.

* * *

><p>I hadn't expected it to turn out like this.<p>

I didn't think we'd go from coffee to Thai to me securing an offer from him to take a go at my back. I really hadn't. But, it sort of just happened. We were talking, and because I wasn't at my best right then, the words sort of just spilled out of my mouth. It was as if, somehow in between the point where I got out of bed, and I knew he was definitely staring at my ass as I walked to the front door to get the takeout from the delivery guy, some switch had been flicked in my brain. I knew he was watching me not as he'd watched me many times before with the eyes of a partner and a friend. No, instead, he was watching me with the eyes of a very, _very _interested male watching a female to see if there was the potential to act on mutual sexual attraction at some point in the near future. Even if my rational brain wasn't solving the process as to what had happened between Booth and I last night to my complete satisfaction, apparently some more base part of my brain was. That made me both excited...and sort of very confused by the entire way events were proceeding between us. Then, there was also a part of me that was curious. Very curious. I wanted to know how far he'd let things go. Could he really want to get rid of that dumb fucking line he'd used for two years or more to keep things from getting more personal between us than they'd ever been to that point? And, if so, that led to another interesting set of questions. Because, the simple point of the situation was that...even if he was still attracted to me, and even if we had had sex last night, then that still left the question of: _what next?_

_What happens next_?

How far would he let things go? How far did I want him to let things go? How far would I let things go between us? And, depending on how far that he let things go, and how far I wanted to let things go, then what did that mean for us?

Because, at least as far as I was concerned, I wanted to let things go as far as they could. Really. I did.

I'd spent a lot of time thinking about Booth over the past six weeks. Longer than that if you count the day of his surgery and the four days before he woke up. And, I suppose if I'm going to be technically accurate, I probably should add a couple of more weeks to the running total for the time I spent thinking about him after I'd asked him to provide a semen donation so that I could be inseminated.

_Damn it._

And, now, here we were not quite two and a half months later, and we'd gone from partners, good friends, and potential parents via artificial insemination...to what? Partners who fucked? Partners who fucked once or fucked more than once? Or something else entirely?

Sighing, I pushed the somber—and rather sobering—thoughts away. Shifting on the bed, I gestured to the other side of where I was sitting and said softly, "Come here. It'll be easier, and we'll make less of a mess if you're sitting over here."

"Uhhh, okay," he agreed as he set his mug down and asked, "Do you want something to drink?"

"Water," I shrugged as a rather normal vibe descended between us. For a few minutes, it was just like the countless other times we'd ordered and shared takeout together. It's just this time, instead of eating it on his couch or mine...well, we were going to eat it half-dressed and in his bed. Nodding at him, I explained, "I got some of the spicy stuff, so ice water would be good, I think?"

He nodded without saying a word and disappeared into the kitchen, returning in record time with two glasses of ice water and some napkins. He sat down on his side of the bed, made a face at me as he took the lone pillow I'd left for him and propped it between him and the headboard—in what looked to be a rather pitiful buffer even to me—before he sat down. I reached into the box and began to distribute the food that I'd ordered for him—because, despite the terms of our agreement, I actually _did _have more than one carton for him—and as long as he stayed away from my vegetarian fried dumplings in panang sauce, I was pretty certain there wouldn't be a problem.

Despite the earlier, and albeit flirtatious, vibe to our verbal exchange, we ate in relative silence. And, then, just like that, my stomach was full and my back was still aching, and I knew I'd run out of time to see if Booth was going to make good on his part of the agreement we'd made or not.

I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but in either case, I was about to find out which it was in one way or another.

* * *

><p>It turned out that Bones actually did order some cartons of takeout for me—beef in hot-sweet chili sauce and pork pad woon sen—which ended up being a lot more satisfying than a day-old bagel from Morrie's. We sat there on my bed, eating our respective cartons of spicy Thai food, with neither of us saying anything. I kept waiting for her to say something, since it's usually Bones that breaks the silence anyway, but this time, she didn't say a peep. I found this a bit disconcerting, to be honest, because if she's not talking, it means she's thinking, and when those gears start turning up there, God only knows what's gonna happen. Usually, it means I'm in deep shit for one reason or another.<p>

The longer the silence went on, the more anxious I got that she was talking herself out of something, but I was afraid to say anything because I didn't want her to think I was pushing her. Every so often, as I looked down, and plucked a bit of hot-sweet chili beef out of my carton, I would steal a glance at her face. Her makeup from the day before had long since rubbed away, but she still looked gorgeous in that natural, simple, uncomplicated way that women think guys don't appreciate but we do. At one point, I was looking at her, just letting my eyes skim along that line from her earlobe along her jaw to her chin, and she turned her head a little, just enough so her eyes met mine. I smiled a little awkwardly, and she smirked back, but neither of us said anything.

As soon as we'd gathered all the empty takeout cartons, and put them back in the cardboard box they'd been delivered in, I quickly zipped out to the kitchen, and set the box on the counter next to the stove to deal with it later. I didn't want to give Bones and that recursively squinty brain of hers an extra cottonpickin' minute to have second thoughts about me giving her that back rub. I was pretty sure that, at least in the moment that she made that 'offer' after we'd been speaking in what seemed to be to be thinly-veiled innuendo, she was willing to consider—well, how else can I say it?—getting physical again and, hell, that was an opportunity that I was definitely _not _going to squander, especially after we'd just sat there and eaten dinner in almost complete silence. I wasn't sure she hadn't changed her mind yet, but on the off chance she was still interested, I wasn't gonna waste a goddamn second. Nope. No-sir-ee. Not at all.

I mean—look, was I starting to get a little horned up thinking about giving her a backrub?

_Abso-fuckin'-lutely._

But, I didn't feel that way just because I wanted to get laid. I mean, seriously. I didn't. Really.

My body didn't even really start to wake up again until I walked out of the bedroom to dispose of the empty cartons and trash, but I'd be lying if I told you didn't start feeling that tingly sensation in my fingertips and the pit of my stomach. Now that it really seemed like there was at least a chance of getting to touch her, well, intimately, it was almost like I'd given myself permission to get a little excited. So, yeah, permission granted, I was getting just a little excited. Even if it was just a little, because it was. But what a little bit it was, huh? But, like I said, it wasn't as if I just wanted to get laid.

I mean, I did, but not _just _to get laid. The fact of the matter was, the woman sitting there in my bed was the woman I'd been dreaming of having in my bed for the better part of four years—well, five if you go all the way back to that first case we worked together. That woman sitting there—in _my _bed!—is the woman I'd come to admire, depend on, and care for so deeply over the years that sometimes I was sure that it was no longer clear where her life stopped and mine began, the way we were so interwoven into each others' lives. Even before I had my surgery, she'd be the last thing I'd think about before I went to bed each night and the first thing I'd think about when I woke up. And then, well...then there was my coma dream...and it was a weird alternate universe, with me and her being nightclub owners as opposed to the kind of partners we are in real life, and she was different, too...more confident, a little less reserved, a bit more outgoing and...well, somehow more...connected with people than Bones often is in real life.

So, yeah, I know, the coma dream was definitely not real, but in a way—you know, the way things were between me and her in that dream—it was everything I'd ever wanted: we were in love, married, working together, and had even started a family together. And, in a sense, the Bren in my coma dream was still Bones. We were still partners, of a sort, and...well, I...I loved her...and she loved me back.

It felt so real, and it really ripped me up inside when I woke up and realized that none of it had been real. I don't know if I'd ever tell her that, but, waking up from that dream and realizing that it was just a dream—_that _was the real nightmare. It was. Really.

It was kinda depressing, actually. Well, if I'm gonna be honest, it wasn't just 'kinda' depressing. Honestly? It was totally depressing. Completely and totally, Phillies-just-blew-a-six-run-shutout-lead-in-the-bottom-of-the-ninth-and-aren't-going-to-the-playoffs-now kinda depressing. It sucked. It really and honestly blew monkey balls. So, in a sense, maybe it was a good thing that Bones went off to Guatemala to dig up Aztecs (or whatever) because I didn't know how I'd have found my way out to the other side of all that had she been around. I really didn't. If I'd needed to sort out how not-married-to-Bones real life was different than my married-to-Bones coma dream, it was gonna be a hell of a lot easier to do with her not around. Besides, I'd been fairly depressed while she was gone. And I didn't want her to see me like that. So it really was better that she wasn't there.

That being said, even though she was gone for the six weeks it took for me to get my shit back together after waking up from my coma and recovering from my surgery, I thought about her all the time. And, I mean, _all the time. _It wasn't just the coma dream. It wasn't like I felt nothing for her before, and then suddenly I had this crazy coma dream and all of a sudden, _wham, _I had all these feelings for her. It was more like, I'd had all these feelings for her, all along, but somehow or the other, the way it all came together in that coma dream, it was as if it crystallized everything so I was able to finally see what I had been unwilling to admit before.

_I love her. _

_I do._

_I love Bones._

I'm not even sure I realized it before that morning, but as I walked out there to the kitchen to stow the takeout trash, I guess it all became clearer somehow. That little feeling, that little buzz, that tingle I felt at the thought of giving her that bribery backrub—it wasn't just because I wanted to get laid again. It was because it offered an opportunity to maybe, just maybe, have a second chance to enjoy with her what we'd apparently enjoyed the night before, but in the wreckage of our blackout hangovers, we'd no memory of.

This was our second chance. Not just to have sex, but to make love. To be something, her and me.

I was positive. I knew it.

Now, I just needed to do something about it.

So it was with all that simmering in my head that went to the kitchen sink and washed my hands, not because I really thought they were dirty, but to give myself ten seconds to think as I watched her sitting there on the bed.

_Okay, _I told myself. _It's game time, alright? Don't fuck this up. _I toweled my hands dry and took a deep breath. _You can't fuck this up. So be cool...and do it right._

Nodding to myself, feeling a bit more confident after my brief little Booth-to-Booth pep talk, I noticed that the bedroom was unusually quiet. I pushed away a negative thought that something was wrong. Instead, I concentrated on the positive and merely called out to her.

"You alright there, Bones?" I asked. "Need any more water or anything?" I hesitated, then added, "I read somewhere that a good massage releases toxins or something like that from your muscles, and you're supposed to drink lots of water after a massage to flush all those toxins out of your body. And, I dunno about you, but I think I've still got some toxins in my system that need to be washed out. So do you want me to bring you another water?"

It took a moment before the response came, but finally she called out, "No. That's okay. I think I'm good. Thanks."

I shrugged my shoulders lightly as I considered her response to be fairly normal. Taking a deep breath, I smiled as I walked back into the bedroom and paused in the doorway as I just looked at her. Her hair was a little mussed up still, even though she'd pulled it back into a ponytail earlier. But otherwise, she looked great. _Beautiful even_.

I know women get all obsessed about makeup, and don't get me wrong, I love it when a woman goes to the effort to get all dolled up, but I'll tell you, there's still nothing better than a beautiful woman, sitting—or laying—in your bed, with no makeup on, and a smile on her face. Revlon and Covergirl and all those people can go to hell, because _that's _beauty that'll take a guy's breath away. And as I stood there, for just a brief instant, in the doorway to my bedroom, looking at her, sitting Indian-style in my bed, I was sure that she was the most beautiful thing I'd ever laid eyes on.

"So," I said a little awkwardly. "You ready to see how good these magic Boothy fingers are?" I raised my eyebrows and grinned, raising my hands and waggling my fingers in the air to illustrate her point.

She stared at me for a moment and then opened her mouth to speak. But, after a few seconds, instead of any words coming out, all she did was shut her mouth and give a small, almost minute nod of her head.

I pressed my lips together and cocked my head to the side. _Why's she so quiet all of a sudden? _I asked, a bit of my earlier worry bleeding into my excited optimism. _She's not having second thoughts, right? _I took a deep breath and decided that, no matter what, I was going to make the best possible go at this, and not do what I'd spent the last four-odd years doing: second-fucking-guessing myself and headshrinking myself to death. I pursed my lips and furrowed my brow as I stared at her, narrow-eyed, and tried to figure out what to do. _What to do? _my inner voice asked. Then, a sharper voice bellowed at me. _What? Are you some kind of eunuch from the Chan dynasty? Get off your goddamn, hungover ass and make good on your offer to make the lady feel better. Do that, you've got a better than 50/50 shot at getting to have another go at the most beautiful woman your sorry ass has ever met. So move. If she wants to call this off, she will. But get going, full steam ahead, until she pulls the brake, and maybe...just maybe, if you're such the lucky schmuck that you think you are, maybe she won't make a grab for the brake at all. So do it._

I nodded happily to myself, the stronger voice beating out the weaker voice of worry and self-doubt.

_Right._

Swaggering towards her a bit, I gave her a toothy grin. "So, uhhh," I began. "How do you want to do this, Bones? Ummm...you know, you gonna keep your shirt on, and, uhh...you know...or do you want to put a towel over you, or...what?"

"I'm not certain, Booth," she said, her voice measured as she spoke. "What do _you _want?"

_Oh jeez, _I sighed silently. _That's a dangerous question, _I thought, biting my lip to keep from smiling.

I knew what I wanted. Or, at least, what part of me wanted—the part of me I was trying to keep from totally blowing my cover and making me look like a insensitive, clumsy horndog. But the fact was, looking at her, looking back at me like that, with a swirl of interest and vulnerability in those pale blue eyes of hers, I really couldn't help thinking how nice it'd be to see her bare back laying out there in front of me, with that delicious, kissably smooth skin ready for the...

_Not helping, Booth, _I told myself as I tried to will away the vague sensation in my belly that was telling me if I didn't slow down this freight train, I was gonna embarrass myself and, quite possibly, freak her out.

"Well, hmmm." I looked into her gorgeous blue eyes, and saw uncertainty, but something else—hope? desire? curiosity?—flickering in them, too. "Well, uhh...see? The other times I've given back rubs, well, either the woman was just wearing a bra or bikini top, or else..." My voice trailed off, and I grinned sheepishly. "You know, she wasn't wearing...well, uhhh...to be honest, anything. But, it's really a question of your comfort level, Bones. I'm...well...it's not _just _that I'm paying back the debt I owe for that wickedly awesome Thai dinner you so kindly procured for us, but, you know, I want to make you feel good. I'm kinda bummed your back's hurting you, and I—of all people, you know—can appreciate what that's like when you feel like shit because of a wrecked back, so I want to help you out." I thought for a second and added, "I don't want to make you uncomfortable, Bones. So, no..._you _tell _me _what you want...and we'll go from there."

At least...I hoped we would.

* * *

><p>I turned and looked at him for another long minute after he'd finished his little nervous ramble.<p>

I don't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing that I sought out his eyes once more with mine because, as hard as I tried, I realized that I couldn't tell what was going on in his head. His faux confidence was apparently having a detrimental effect on me and making my emotions and logical mind spiral a bit out of control in a somewhat unpredictable manner. And, in that moment, distracted as I was, I couldn't figure out what he was thinking. I knew I _should _be able to know that information, however, I didn't because I just couldn't read him in any significantly accurate way in that moment. And, that just annoyed the fuck out of me even more because, while it's not like I've ever been very good at reading people to begin with, but I like to think that I've developed at least a bit of skill when it comes to reading Booth. He's my partner, after all. But, in that moment, I couldn't get a signal in that moment...and all the ones that came after it, I supposed, it was becoming increasingly imperative that I know what he was thinking and what he was feeling.

And, there was more than one reason for it.

On one hand, I've always believed that complete honesty is preferable to subterfuge in almost any situation as it saves time and keeps misunderstandings from happening. On the other, and more personal, hand...well, there was something off about this. Something had happened in between when he'd brought the take out boxes to the kitchen and come back. He was just a tad bit...well, too suave. Too smooth. Too...well, I'm not sure what, but it didn't match the Booth that I'd been dealing with in one way or another since we'd woken up.

This...well, this Booth was different...and I didn't know what he was thinking since he wasn't really telling me what I needed to know. Of course, part of that could be my fault since I wasn't asking the proper questions, and I was vacillating on the topic in a very unusual way, but...I couldn't help but feel that maybe he was just doing this to what...? Why, logically, could he being do this? I mean, sure, it could just be because he's a male, I'm a female, and our impromptu flirting might've put him in a brainspace where he was horny and wanted to get laid, to use the parlance that is no doubt echoing in Booth's mind if, indeed, that's the case. Second, he could be doing this because he has some personal/romantic interest in me as I'd hoped. Third...well, he could also be doing this to make me feel better, I suppose.

Hmmmm...he _was _somewhat concerned when I mentioned my back as causing me some pain.

Wait—was that it? Was he just...trying...fuck!

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I was so damn frustrated. _Fuck!_

I didn't know what he was doing. And, I wasn't quite certain how to ask him. So, it was driving me metaphorically nuts, and...wait—

_Back rubs_.

As in plural.

As in more than one.

He said he'd given _back rub__s__. _

As in the fact that he'd done this before, and hmmmmm...

_Hmmmmmm._

Okay. Well, that was something that I could focus on, and maybe use it as a point to get more information out of him since for some inexplicable reason I was nervous about taking a direct approach with him. Yes, I know—that doesn't make any sense, especially considering the fact that I was the one who was saying it, but what the fuck. It'd been a rather consistent day for things to not make sense...so, backrubs. As in plural. As in there was more than one woman whom Booth had used his so-called magic fingers on over the years. Okay. That was simple...so maybe I could start with that.

Licking my lips, I blinked at him a couple of times before I spoke. "So, Booth," I told him as I looked at him. "Is this way that you're telling me that you've done this...often?"

"Well," he coughed, his forehead crinkling in confusion. "Well, yeah—I have. Sure. I mean, I've given backrubs to..." He laughed awkwardly. "Well, I mean, when Rebecca was pregnant, you know, before we kinda fell apart, I'd give her back rubs after she'd get home from work or school. And, I've given a back rub or two to, ummm, well...to...ummm...err...some of the women I've, you know, sorta dated over the years. I've given shoulder massages to female friends I wasn't, uhhh, involved with." He laughed again.

"Can I be honest here, Bones?" He put his hands on his hips and shrugged. "I'm not sure, uhh, what you're looking for here," he said.

He had a wide-eyed, awkward, vulnerable look on his face, somewhat reminiscent of the expression I'd seen on his face a few times before—most recently as I was walking into the pre-op prep suite before his brain surgery. He shifted his weight from one hip to the other as he stood there, as if he wasn't quite sure where to stand. Maybe that was it. He wasn't sure where he stood, metaphorically speaking, with me.

I cocked an eyebow as he continued to ramble. While I'd be the first to admit that there's something particularly attractive about Booth when he's acting this boyishly uncertain, it bothered me a bit that he was so, well, unsettled. But I wasn't sure at that point what to tell him to reassure him, so I just let him keep talking.

"I _can _give you a nice soothing back rub, if that's what you what," he admitted. "But...if you're, ummm, maybe looking for something more, ummm...you know...uhh...well, _involved_? Do you know what I mean?"

Well, now, that was a surprise.

Ummm...I'm not certain, but Booth...my partner of four plus years...Booth...my best friend...Booth...was he...was Booth...well, was he propositioning me? Because, I'm not positive, but I think he was...ummm...

_Huh._

_Ohhhh._

_Wait..._

_Fuck me._

I think I went in that moment from confused to a state of complete mental clarity because if he was indeed propositioning me, then he wasn't giving me a backrub just because he felt sorry for me. No, his motivation had to fall into one of the following categories: (a) either the wanting said backrub to lead to sex because he wanted to get laid and/or (b) he wanted to get laid because he was with _me_.

Those implications also put a new proverbial spin on the other questions that had been metaphorically racing around in my head earlier. If Booth was indeed making a sexual proposition to me, well...if he was, then that obviously takes care of the answers to questions one and two:

(1) _Yes_, he does still have a physical attraction to me and (2) _yes,_ it's highly likely we had sex last night.

So, if that's true, then it brings us to question number three: does he want from me? If he was propositioning me, and I decided to take him up on that offer, what would happen next?

Would he give me another answer to my other lingering questions?

Pursing my lips together, I decided there was only one way to find out and that was to keep him talking.

Tilting my head at him, I asked, "I'm not certain, Booth. Perhaps...you need to be more specific."

"Umm..okay," he said, blushing a little which softened the expression on his face somewhat and did make me feel a bit better for some reason at seeing his vulnerability. "Well, I guess what I was trying to say is, you can either keep your shirt on, take your shirt off and leave your bra on, take them both off and cover up with a towel for modesty, or dispense with the shirt, bra, screw the towel and do this, you know, topless. It's your body, and your backrub, so it's really your call." He paused, then his expression brightened as he suddenly seemed emboldened for some unknown reason that I knew I couldn't possibly fathom without some type of assistance from him. "I might offer a suggestion that might reflect my personal bias, but it's really up to you."

"But, wait...I'm still not certain," I said, suddenly knowing I needed for him to give me at least one point of clarity here that I could hold onto as things progressed, in what I was sure to be, if nothing else, a very chaotic manner. "How much or how little clothing I chose to wear can contribute to the soothingness of the massage. Explain, please.."

Booth's eyebrows flew up as he considered my words. "Oh, okay. Err...well, if you're going for the most soothing massage that'll knead away any of those knots you have back there...well, I think that requires skin on skin, you know?" He grinned and winked at me in a rather roguish way that made my stomach do some type of flip flop motion. "Your back, bare of clothing, and my bare hands. That's what the pros do, of course, not that I'm claiming to be anything but a skilled amateur here, you know, but..."

Well, okay, that made some sense. So—

"Then, perhaps, you should help me take off my shirt?" I suddenly found the words spilling out of my mouth before I'd even realized what I'd said.

He blinked at me for just the briefest of times before he nodded sharply. "Wow, sure," Booth said, his voice bright with enthusiasm. "I'm always happy to offer my clothing removal services," he added with a lopsided grin and a vague waggle of his eyebrows.

It was apparently at that point that whatever confidence and bravado was affecting Booth suddenly infected me as well because all the logical thoughts in my mind suddenly disappeared from my head when he grinned at me, leaned in, and I smelled his scent.

Fine.

_Fuck it._

We're doing this.

So—

"Well," I said, "if you're as good as you claim to be, perhaps you need to start making good on your claims by coming over here and actually removing something?" As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized I'd surprised both of us apparently in the making of such a statement.

* * *

><p><em>Holy shit, <em>I said to myself. _She's gonna let me take her shirt off. And probably her bra, too. And let me touch her bare back. Holy fucking shit. I am lucky. I didn't think, but_—_wow. Damn. Holy shit._

For a moment, I wondered what she'd think—or, given how things might, if I'm lucky, proceed from here, what she will think—when she sees what _my _back presently looks like. Would it freak her out to know that we'd not only had sex last night, but something wild and aggressive enough to tear me up like she did? Then again, Bones doesn't usually freak out about things of a sexual nature, so maybe not. In any case, that's really the last thing I need to be thinking about right now. Hell, _my _back isn't even in play yet.

_Focus, Booth. _So I nodded my head, shot her as cocky a grin as I could muster up, and sat down on the edge of the bed, a few inches away from her.

"So, to get things started, I suggest we take off this lovely little number," I said, reaching for the bottom hem of her teal-hued knit top and looking over at her as I hesitated. "Is that okay?" I asked quietly..

She merely gave me a strange look and then shrugged her shoulders slightly before she lifted up her arms. I reached for the bottom hem of her top and pulled it over her head, biting the inside of my lip so that I wouldn't gasp or snicker or laugh maniacally at how awesome this was...and how even more awesome it was going to be. I didn't want to do anything that was goofy or strange or anything that might weird Bones out there. It seemed she'd moved away from the edge of Panic City to a more comfortable, laid back space in Cautiously Optimistic Central, and I sure as hell wasn't going to do anything, _anything, _to dial back the odometer on that one. My prime directive was to not freak her out, and I wasn't going to do anything that might even come close to doing that.

She was wearing a fairly simple underwire wine-colored bra that snapped in the back. My mouth went dry as I stared at it. "Ahh, hmmm, well..." I sorta stammered after a minute, my voice cracking a bit in a way that made me wince. _Real suave there, Booth. _ But I quickly put the thought out of my head as I stared at her chest. I looked admiringly at the way her breasts looked in that bra. It wasn't fancy, but the color really accentuated the pale ivory skin of hers, and, well, obviously, the shape of her breasts, which I'd been admiring and privately worshipping for years. "Do you want to keep this on, or take it off? If you want to take it off, Bones, I, uhh...I'd do that for you." I punctuated my offer with a half-grin.

"How about this," she suggested with a strange smoothness coming into her own voice that seemed to indicate that whatever Bones was thinking or feeling or getting ready to do, is most definitely was not a freak out (at least the bad kind) in any way, shape or form. "I'll lay down and then you can unclasp it once I'm situated on the bed?" she said with a nod.

_Good solution there, Bones, _I thought.

"Yeah," I said. "Sure, that'll work. Do you want me to place a towel to cover your, uhhh, ass...errr, backside, like the professional masseuses do, or are you okay with me seeing your underwear?"

She blinked at me for a minute, and I swear that I saw a bit of a naughty smile as she noticed my crude slip before I recovered. But, it disappeared, and I thought I might've imagined it if she hadn't asked, "Why? Haven't you been staring at my ass every time I've gotten out of bed and moved anyway?"

Damn. She knew. Then again, she always knows, doesn't she? Still, I've never been one to give up that easily. I bit the inside of my lip again—man, with the amount I'd been laying into it in the last few hours, I knew it was going to be as sore as hell later, but I had to do what I had to do—as I thought about how, yes, I'd definitely been taking full advantage of the fact that she'd been sitting around, laying around, and then traipsing around wearing just those cute little panties. These were the same panties, by the way, in case anyone forgot, which didn't do a damn thing to hide that rockin' ass of hers, thank God. And as mildly annoyed as I'd been at the time to learn that she'd ordered takeout, I have to admit, my annoyance faded a bit, and I felt more than a little twinge below my own waist, when I saw her run over to answer the door in those panties.

I smiled at the image, then finally conceded her point as I realized there was no point to trying to deny what we both already knew. I shrugged a little, and laughed. "Busted, huh?" was all I said. "Sorry," I said. "But I assume that you gotta pretty good look at my ass running around in boxers all morning and before that, when all I had on was a button-down shirt that had been totally unbuttoned. We're probably even on that account, wouldn't you think?"

I flashed a teasing eyebrow at her and waited for her answer.

"Have you caught me looking?" she asked simply.

"No," I admitted. "That's why I said I 'assume' that you'd gotten a good look at my ass, et cetera."

"So...are you offering if I want to take a closer look at some point then?" she then countered.

_Hmmm. _That was quite an interesting query she tossed out there. _She wants to see my ass? _If she wanted to take a look at my ass, whether...well in Bones-speak, in just a cursory visual inspection or a more detailed, hands-on assessment, I was all too ready to give her the opportunity. _Fuck, yeah._ And, holy hell, if she was wanting to see my ass, then as far as I could tell, I had the all-clear because she just waved the green flag.

_Drivers, start your engines. _

So, as soon as I heard her ask that little zinger, I had an almost immediate answer. ready to serve her back

"Absolutely, Bones," I said happily and enthusiastically as I got caught up in what had suddenly developed into a serious bit of double entendre flirting that made me wonder how dirty things might get between us if we were really lucky. _Hmmm... _There was only one way to find out, so that's why I said, "If there's some part of me that you want to see, I'm willing to let you sneak more than a tiny peaky, if that's what you really want. No strings attached even. It doesn't have to be part of playing doctor/nurse or 'I'll you mine if you'll show me yours' kinda thing."

She laughed at that, in a way that made me remember how much I loved her laugh, and made the mild tingling that had been humming at the base of my spine grow just a tad bit stronger. Then, she gave me a sharp nod as she told me, "Good to know. But, for now, why don't we just start with the massage? If you can make my back feel better then...maybe...we'll see what else you can use those fingers of yours to do to me."

At hearing her make reference to 'what else you can use those fingers of yours to do to me,' I felt my balls hitch and a certain part of my groggy anatomy perk up. _Hoooboy. Fuck she's so goddamn sexy. Just...well, fuck. _

And, on that note, I decided to take her words as the challenge they were. I had a mission to accomplish. I knew that if I could accomplish it with a successful outcome, then good...no, really super mega excellent things would follow. And I wanted that. I wanted her. I wanted the whole fucking shebang.

So, nodding, I cleared my throat before I surveyed the bed. "Let's make sure the bed's made well enough that this will be comfortable for ya," I said, walking around to make sure the sheets and blankets were evenly laid on top of the mattress. I mean, hell, it doesn't have to be a U.S. Army Infantry School style of crisp bed making. It just needs to be comfy enough to relax on while your partner straddles you and rubs out all the knots and hard spots in your back, right?

Bones. Straddled. Bones being straddled. Bones being straddled by me. _Fuck._

Just...well, fuck.

_This is gonna be so fucking awesome._

"So, okay," I said. "Wanna lay down on your stomach and then, once you're comfortable, we'll take your bra off. Cool?"

"Unclasp it," she corrected me. "Not take it off. For now...just unclasp it."

"Okay," I said, trying to keep a straight face even though I really felt like pouting. All that wind up and no pitch? One second she was talking about seeing what other things my magic fingers could do to her, and then the next minute she waves the checkered flag and leaves me in what is clearly a lookie-but-no-touchie situation._ You just can't make this easy, can you, Bones? We've got to do a few pace laps, huh? _I thought. _Okie-dookie. I can deal with that. Fine._

I let her lay down on her stomach in the middle of the bed, and once she seemed to have found a restful position, I leaned over and gently unhooked the two clasps that held the back of the bra closed. Once I'd undone the clasps, I casually let the garment lay open, "Do you want the straps to come down, too?" I asked, unsure how far to push her so that it wasn't too far before it was too soon. "Maybe I need to ask you, where on your back are you suffering the most pain? That's probably where I should focus on, huh?" I paused for a moment and then nodded. "So, what's hurting where, huh, Bones?"

She took what seemed to me to be a very deep breath before she exhaled and responded. "Lower back," she told me after she'd made a frown. "It's almost as if I twisted the wrong way somehow, and I've been paying for it ever since."

_Hmmm_. _What did we do last night? _If she was sore because she twisted the wrong way, I guessed that whatever we did, it was more than just the usual a la carte selections off the menu of sexual positions.

I thought about it for a moment. Twisting means changing positions. _Huh. _Seemed to me, whatever we did, this was more than just a three pitches straight over the plate, three up, three down sort of inning. We batted around the cycle, more than once, and I was coming to think we might've even gone into extra innings there. _What did I do to her? _And, at least as interesting a question: _what did she do to me? _Did I make her scream? How many times? Did we even stay in the bed the whole time? My eyes quickly shot over to the bedroom carpet and I wondered if..._Nope...someone would have rugburn if we'd have done that. _Then I glanced over at the wall near the window. Did I take her against the wall? _God, if we did—that's fucking hot. _ My balls tightened at the thought of it. _Fuck_—

_Ground control to Sergeant Booth_, another sharp voice sounded in my head. _First fucking thing's first_. _Focus. _I shrugged away the thought and turned my attention back to the mission at hand.

"Okay," I said. "Now, do you mind if I straddle you?" I had to pause for only the briefest of seconds so that my voice wouldn't crack again. I swallowed once, willing myself not to get hard and failing miserably as the words 'straddle' and 'Bones' ping-ponged inside my head. _Fuck_. _Come on, Booth. _I then took another breath before I continued, "I've got...err, well you know I've still got my boxers and a T-shirt on, so it's not...you know, I'm not naked or anything, so this isn't sexual...that is, it doesn't have to have any sexual connotations, unless you want it to...err, but nevermind that. I just—oh fuck. What I mean is, if I can move that way, I know I can have better leverage to work out those kinks. It's a bit harder to do from the side. It's do-able, but just harder. Either's fine with me...it's your call."

I huffed another breath as I waited for her response, silently praying her logical brain—which never misses a single goddamn detail—somehow tuned out the part of my ramble that mentioned 'sex'...'naked' and all that other shit.

_Wait_. Who was I kidding? _This is Bones we're talking about here. Of course she's not gonna miss a thing like that. _I was pretty sure I was totally fucked. _But, wait again. _She still hadn't pulled the brake up, so I considered that's a good sign since..._aww, damn. _

I was thinking about this way too fucking much.

_Shit._

Fortunately, goddess that she is, Bones chose that exact moment to distract me from my mental quicksand when she spoke. "You know it's very hard to make me feel uncomfortable once I've given leave for someone to touch me, Booth," she shrugged with a simple smile that I heard in her voice more than saw in her face. "Just do whatever it is you need to do."

_Heh._

I sure knew what I wanted to do, but I tried to will away the beginnings of a hard-on and tried again to focus on the task at hand. It seemed as if I'd been doing that a lot lately with her. That said, she'd just basically given me a blank freakin' check to do whatever I needed to do to give her one rockin' awesome massage. That meant one thing. Yep. I was sure as hell gonna straddle her. Because, of course, that was the best way to give her the best possible massage. And I wasn't just pulling that shit out of my ass. It's the truth. No, really.

"Super," I muttered, the relief clear in my voice. "Say no more."

And she didn't. I looked over and waited for her to get comfortable on the mattress, and then was just about to climb in bed and straddle her legs so I could focus on her lower back when a brilliant idea came to mind.

Oil. Her skin. Oiled up. With me touching her. I mean, damn—that's a hot image. Smokin', really. I needed to do whatever I needed to do to make that happen. That's what the lady said, right? _'Just do whatever it is you need to do.' _A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, right?

_Fuck, I'm good._

"Oh, uhhh, gimme a sec, Bones," I said. I stood up and ran into the bathroom, opened up the medicine cabinet and scanned it for that tiny bottle of mineral oil I had. I have no idea whatsoever the circumstances under which I'd come to acquire it, but I did know I had a pretty good idea where it was.

"Come on, come on, come on," I muttered as I looked for the small bottle and then swallowed an excited yelp of triumph when I spotted it.

Target secured, I walked back into the bedroom and climbed onto the bed. My breath hitched a little in my throat as my eyes were immediately drawn to those nice, white cotton panties that looked absolutely delicious on her cute little ass. I made a little sound, a grunt maybe, as I shook my head and tried to refocus myself. I straddled her legs, taking care to put all my weight on my own haunches as I brought my hands to her lower back. _That lower back...her skin. Oh, God...wow._ How many times had I rested my hand there over the years, just ever so slightly touching her there as she walked through doors, down hallways...and after all that time, I was finally touching it, skin-to-skin.

_Focus. _I reached over and grabbed the little bottle of baby oil and flipped the lid up, then squeezed a dime-sized amount into the palm of my hand.

"You ready there, Bones?" I asked her.

I didn't wait for her response, but rather rubbed my hands together, making sure to roll each of my thumbs over my oily palms to coat them with the slick, sweet-smelling oil, and then brought them down to the little space in the small of her back, just above the waistband of her panties. I fanned my hands over the delicate curve there, then touched the sides of my thumbs to the soft, ivory flesh on each side of her spine, and stroked them over her skin, gently at first and then more firmly as I pressed my thumbs into her flesh. I could feel her muscles beneath her skin, and they did seem a bit tense. Dragging the sides of my thumbs in ovals over those muscles, over and over again, I couldn't help but smile at hearing the soft sigh that eventually escaped from her lips.

"Like that?" I chuckled.

I know _I _liked it. Fucking-A, this was awesome.

I shifted my hips a little, partly to make sure I wasn't putting my weight on her legs, but more because I could feel that tell-tale twittering feeling in my groin, and I knew I was getting really turned on, but I didn't know what else to do about it. Shrugging, I just pressed forward knowing that Bones was the type of gal that could stop me anytime she wanted to...and then some. I unfurled my loosely-clasped fists and brought my fingers around to squeeze the plush curves on each side of her hips as I continued to roll tight, firm ovals with my thumbs over the muscles on each side of her spine. I wondered what all these places were called—and a part of me thought about asking her—but I decided not to, and just kept at it so she didn't squint the mood we were working on building here to a sad and miserable death.

"Is that too hard?" I asked her, wincing a bit the moment I realized my choice of words since I knew at least one of us was dealing something that was getting too hard...and harder by the minute. _Fuck—_

"No," she responded, her voice dreamy and strange in a way I'd never heard it sound before that made my breath catch in my throat. "That spot...there." She hissed a bit as I followed her verbal cues and concentrated on one spot just above and a couple inches to the left of her spine in the part of the swell that lead to her awesomely curvy ass. God, she was so fucking sexy, it was killing me. "Just there. Ohhhh. That's...that's one of the places where the muscles...it's...I...I-I feel some soreness particularly in that spot. It's very...mmmmmm...tender, Booth. Very...ahhhh, very tender."

Every time she made one of those sounds—_oooh, ahhh, mmmmm_—I felt a tingle roll up my spine and across my shoulders. Sure, it was just a massage, and I was just working out the kinks in the muscles of her back, but damn, with her making noises like that, there was no force in the universe that was gonna keep me from thinking about what kind of noises she was gonna make when I put my hands to work on other delicious parts of her body. It was becoming extremely difficult to think about anything other than all the other things we could be doing that might cause her to make noises like that. I clenched my eyes shut for a moment and tried to get my game face back on. I again prayed what I'd started to think of as my own personal prayer to some unnamed patron saint of concentration.

_Come on, man. Stay with it. Focus_, _huh? Focus._

I let up on my thumbs and brought my fingers around toward the middle of her back, then began to apply similar firm, oval-shaped strokes with the pads of my fingers on each side of her spine. I loved the way her skin felt—so soft and silky, perfectly even and smooth, like marble, but warm and inviting. A grin broke across my face as I noted the way the darker skin of my hands looked against her ivory skin. My skin, which is already a little dark on account of having inherited a bit of my Italian grandmother's coloring, had gotten even darker over the course of the five weeks since I got out of the hospital after my surgery. Since I was on disability from work, and Bones was gone, digging up those Aztecs or whatever else she was playing Indiana Jones to find in Guatemala, I'd a lot of free time, and the weather is still nice, so I spent a lot of time outside—jogging and swimming (taking advantage of Bones' apartment's pool, since, you know, she did give me the key to the pool area, and well, she did say it was okay if Parker and I used it...it's not like she said Parker and I always had to use it at the same time, right?)—and so I'd gotten myself a little bit of a tan, which I hadn't even really noticed until I saw my hands working over the soft, white skin of her lower back.

"Is that making it feel any better there, Bones?" I asked her, my voice gravelly in a way that I knew I don't think it ever sounded outside of the hour or so that preceded any of the awesome times when I knew sex was imminent. But, as she squeaked a small yelp as I pressed into her back and her body tensed, and I knew I'd hit a particularly sore spot. I frowned at her movement as it reminded me—through the rapidly building haze of horniness that was building in my head—that I felt kinda bad that, whatever we'd done the night before, it had left her sore and hurting. I mean, I guess she'd returned the favor with those scratches, but it's not the same, and I didn't ever like seeing her hurt. So, I felt a bit for her in that moment as I lightened my touch and her body relaxed a bit.

"That...what you're doing there...it feels better, but I...oh, damn, it's still sore as hell," she breathed. "It's better, but...ohhhh—that's good, Booth. Keep doing that."

_Fuck yes I will. Just try to stop me._

"I'm sorry your back hurts," I said as I went back to drawing ovals in her flesh with the sides of my thumbs. "You know, I hate it when you hurt." I felt her tighten a little at my words, which was absolutely the last thing I wanted in that moment. Trying to do damage control, I said, "I-I...you know, Bones...I just wish..." I laughed a little as I slowed the motion of my hands. "It's kind of a bummer, you know, to have the aches and pains, but not be able to remember any of the good stuff that made any of that worth it?"

_Hmmm..._

I'm not sure if I did any solid damage control or had just made things worse by tossing those words out there like that. It was really the first time since she'd shot me down with her 'we hadn't had sex' talk that morning that either one of us had directly referenced the giant fucking elephant that was in the bedroom with us. So, for better or worse, it was now out there since I'd spiked that fucking pachyderm over the net and into her court. We just had to see how things would go as a consequence...for better or worse.

And, for once, even as I said it, I wasn't certain which way it would go...I just hoped, someway, somehow things would turn out for the better, because I really love this woman...and finally getting to make love to her _and _remember it would be a nice thing too...particularly as far as my quietly raging case of blue balls as concerned.

_Heh_.

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><p><strong>AN: **_Yes, yes, yes—we know..._

_We know what you're thinking. "After 20K+ words, you numbnuts end the chapter THERE?" Answer: Yes, we did. We hope you'll forgive us. We did it because these two are about to launch into an important discussion that we needed to deliver to you intact, in Part IV. This piece will have six parts, by the way. And you can probably guess that the really, really good stuff (errr, you know we're talking about here, right?) is in the last few parts of the story. _

_This is one of a couple of fairly experimental pieces Dharmasera is doing right now. This one, of course, is experimental from the standpoint of the style in which we've written it. First person narrative is a tricky thing. It either works or it doesn't. Alternating first person is even more difficult to pull off in a way that preserves a coherent narrative, especially where the narrators have such dramatically different ways of thinking and speaking. In any case, we hope this is working for you folks, but we'd love to hear from you._

_Let us know what you thought of this third installment of "He Said, She Said." It's a great opportunity to put that very nice, new and improved, bright and oh-so-sparkly review button to good use. _

_Yeah, that's it. That button down there. Mmm-hmmm. Yes, that one. Push it. Oh, yeah, like that._

_Thanks! We love you guys and we love hearing from you._


	30. 30—He Said, She Said, Part IV

**A Very Bad Idea**

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><p><strong>By<strong>**:** dharmamonkey & Lesera128  
><strong>Rated<strong>**: **M  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>**: **Ummm, nope, we still don't own anything. We have, however, apparently become squatters in the sandbox that we crashed... so, umm... yeah. There we go.

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><p><strong>AN****: **_We could offer all kinds of excuses for the delay in updating, but we're hopeful that most of you will be so thrilled to see this update that you'll forgive our tardiness. _

_So, without further ado, let's go back to Booth's bedroom. (God, what a great way to introduce a chapter, huh?)_

**Unf Alert**: _This story is about two people with a raging attraction who wake up next to each other in bed, not entirely clothed, uncertain as to whether they slept together or merely slept next to one another. You do the math, people. So, if you don't like reading about that sort of thing, or shouldn't be, please stop reading. __The rest of you, get your Kleenex out (because we think this thing is funny enough you might just end up in tears before we're done) and a tall glass of ice water, and let's go._

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><p><strong>VIII. He Said, She Said, Part IV<strong>

**Pertinent Details on Scenario #8****: **Set during the beginning of episode 5x01: "Harbingers in the Fountain."

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><p>It had started off so well.<p>

One minute, I was lying face down on his bed, virtually naked, and Booth was straddling me, rubbing me down with these wonderfully warm and strong hands as he massaged the mineral oil into my sore muscles. It felt absolutely incredible. Then, the next minute, his hands had slowed down, and he was all but babbling. And, when I realized what he was saying, I couldn't help but tense as soon as I'd heard the words tumble out of his mouth and took them for their true meaning.

_Bummer...not to be able to remember any of the good stuff_.

Hmmm.

Well—

There it was. There it was in a single, albeit wordy, sentence.

_Fuck_.

I should've known he'd wait until I was laid out flat on my stomach, literally at his mercy, in a position of submission, and he'd choose _that _exact moment to bring it up again.

I mean, it's not that we didn't need to talk about it, because, I suppose...well, I've come to the realization that talking about it was inevitable. But, just—I guess I got caught a little off-guard when he started to work out some of the tension that had gathered in the muscular tissue of my lower lumbar region. I was just starting to relax, and somewhat uncharacteristically, I freely admit, lose myself in the moment. I was enjoying things—enjoying him...being with him...feeling him touching me, and without any of the complicated significant baggage that I knew really needed to be resolved before we could actually—possibly? hopefully? maybe?—engage in such activities without the Sword of Damocles that was the stereotypically labeled 'morning after' talk with one another hanging over our heads—even if just for a few stolen moments.

I _knew _we needed to confront what had happened, why, and what it meant for us and our partnership and our future potential (non-)relationship. I did. And, I knew we would. I wasn't trying to stall for time or avoid having that talk with him.

But, in that moment, all I wanted to concentrate was on how it felt to be that close to him, because it felt really, _really _good. And, I know...I was enjoying the benefits of having gone through what was going to be, I was fairly certain, more than a slightly emotionally and mentally draining experience. But, as soon as he'd made his point about what had happened between us and what neither one of us could remember, it was just as if he hadn't done anything and the muscle throbbing started again. Suddenly, the metaphorical bubble had burst, and the choice to put off having that talk was suddenly gone.

Typical Booth—of course if one of us were going to stumble us into this type of important discussion unexpectedly, it _would _be him that would be the one to do it. He's just..._argghhh_. He's so..._male_ sometimes.

_Damn it..._

Not surprisingly, as soon as I tensed, and my mood shifted correspondingly, Booth sensed the change. He was quiet for a moment, even as his strokes lessened ever so slightly in the force he was exerting. It was almost imperceptible in the change in pressure, but I could feel it. He knew something was wrong. After a minute, even as he tried to keep his voice casual and light, I could tell worry was creeping into his mind. "You okay there, Bones?" he asked quietly.

I was silent for a moment, and my silence prompted him to slow his movements once again so that he'd just about all but stopped moving his fingers. When I still didn't say anything, he sighed lightly, and I knew he was working through a way in his mind to try to get me to talk.

"What's wrong?" he tried again.

I was quiet for another minute, as I pondered how to answer his question. Eventually, I decided on what I thought was a rather interesting turn of phrase since it could be taken in more than one way—a type of communication which is something that Booth and I have come to perfect when it comes to banter-like interpersonal conversational skills. I eventually answered, "I think you've hit a nerve."

"Oh," he said somewhat sadly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—wait, do you mean..." His voice trailed off as he took my deeper meaning and he asked, "Oh...what did I do?"

"It's just...I suppose it's silly for either one of us to continue hitting the metaphorical bush since I'm half naked in your bed and have been for the greater part of the last twenty-four hours...right?" I don't know why the words suddenly poured out of me like that, given my earlier reticence to discuss the situation that I'd initially been so insistent hadn't actually occurred, but they did.

I felt Booth sit back on his haunches and, after a moment, roll to the side as he unstraddled me again. "Yeah," he murmured. "It is sorta silly to keep beating around the bush. You're right. We need to talk, I think."

I stayed on my stomach and merely tilted my head to look at him as I asked, "So I guess that means the massage is over? Because whatever progress you made there was feeling really good until about five minutes ago."

He shrugged. "I'll make it up to you, Bones," he said. "But, for now, yeah. I really do think we need to talk about this. Then, you know, we'll both be a bit more relaxed, and I'll give you a whizbang massage there, and you'll be feeling a lot better for a lot of reasons. But...if the goal of a massage is to relax tension, I think we need to talk about the eight hundred pound gorilla in the room, or else the whole massage-thing won't...well, it'll be a bit of an exercise in futility. I want you to feel better, Bones. Your back, of course. But...you know, your brain and your heart, too."

I was quiet for another minute as I contemplated his words. He seemed quite optimistic about things if he thought that whatever talk we were going to have would end in both of us being relaxed―which meant, in his mind, he saw the outcome resulting in one of two things. He either wanted to forget it and reestablish his damn line so we could backtrack into our respectively safe little spheres of influence. Or, at the complete opposite end of the spectrum of possibilities, he must've thought that—well, he thought we might be able to get past it. We could get past the line, and we could move forward with things. What we'd do once we were past it, I wasn't sure, and I don't know how much of an idea that Booth had as to what we could do then. At least, from what he'd just said, I took it to mean that he was unsure as I with how to proceed. So, I thought, that point seemed to be the most logical one for us to use as a starting point in the required conversation that we needed to have with one another.

Not certain as to how long such a conversation might take, I nodded at him as I asked, "Can I borrow one of your T-shirts? I think I'd rather not do this topless."

A faint smile flashed across his face and something flickered in his eyes, then he pursed his lips, nodded and, without a further word, got up and walked over to his dresser. He opened the drawer and fished out a light blue T-shirt. "Phillies okay, Bones?" he asked. "It's that or Pink Floyd's 'Dark Side of the Moon'...today was supposed to be laundry day, but...well—"

I couldn't help but make a face of disgust at his propensity for having nothing but an infinite supply of T-shirts with his diversity only extending to whether they could be divided into the half that were devoted to his favorite rock bands or the other half that commemorated his holy trinity of sports teams, i.e., the Phillies, the Flyers, and the Steelers, with occasional gear from Penn State and 76ers mixed in for good measure. "Metaphorical beggars can't be choosers, right?"

"Mmmm," he grinned. "Nope. Not really since it's not like I have a Braves shirt in here or some other crazy thing. So, unless you want to wear something out of my dirty laundry pile, which I'm guessing you don't, you're kind of stuck with what I've got which would Floyd or Phillies. What'll it be, Bones?" He held up the two shirts.

"Baseball," I grumbled, gesturing to the Phillies shirt that he held in his left hand. "I like the blue one better."

"Figures," he muttered as he bunched the shirt in his hand and lightly tossed it at me. "Floyd never gets the respect, Bones. Never."

"Tough," I muttered. Reaching for the shirt, I then arched an eyebrow as he stared at me expectantly. "Ummm, aren't you going to turn around, Booth?"

"Oh," he said, turning his back. "Sorry."

I made another face as I resisted rolling my eyes at him, but after I'd pulled on the Phillies T-shirt he'd loaned me, I arched my back a bit and winced as I shifted into a sitting position. I scooted until my back was resting parallel to the headboard, and I extended my legs so they were out in front of me. Nodding at him, I said, "Okay. You can turn around now."

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><p>I knew something was wrong the minute she tensed up. It was like I walked into a hidden chuckhole on the backlot baseball field of Bones' mind. I do that a lot, actually, and just when I think I've figured out the lay of the land, I up and do it again. Either I'm some kind of epic dumbass, or I've managed to find the world's most complicated woman. Possibly both, but I'm gonna go with the latter since I like to think that I'm not that much of a schmuck, at least not on such a consistent basis.<p>

But the fact of the matter was, we really did need to talk about it.

Yeah, _it. _

You know, as in the fact that we'd sex and, more importantly, what it meant, then, how we wanted to handle things going forward. There was no backrub in the world that was gonna relax away the tension if we didn't clear the air between us. And moreover, if we didn't talk about it, I was gonna develop a complex myself, and then I'd need a backrub. Or a sedative. And after me tying one on the night before, I'm guessing my neurosurgeon wouldn't be too keen on me doping my ass up on sedatives. Since the bender last night meant I'd be on the wagon for a while, that knocked out alcohol to ease the pain, so yeah, we needed to talk because I was gonna run out of ways to self-medicate pretty quickly. I know she didn't want to, but we really had to. There just wasn't any other way to get around it but putting our heads down, gritting our teeth, and plowing forward come hell or high water. So, decision made, I took a breath and lifted my head when she said I could turn around because she'd finished pulling on the T-shirt I'd loaned her.

"Bones," I said quietly as I turned around. I stopped, dumbstruck for a moment, as I took in the sight that greeted me. She looked so damn cute in my light blue Phillies T-shirt. I tried to ignore the fact that I could see her nipples through the thin polyblend material. Emphasis there on 'tried,' because the fact of the damn matter was, the more I tried to keep my eyes focused on something other than the way her pert, hard nipples looked as the thin, almost translucent fabric clung to them, the more I found myself completely incapable of looking at or thinking about anything else. It was one of those 'runner's shirt' type of materials that clung so perfectly to every tiny bump and curve of those pretty breasts of hers, I could almost feel them. Actually, I felt a little tingle in my fingertips as I thought about how the pebbly texture would feel under my fingertips, and a quick jolt of desire flashed in my gut.

"Look, umm..." The words _'about last night' _almost tumbled out of my mouth, but I caught myself so that I wouldn't have to kick my own ass for the barfworthy cliché that my big fat mouth wanted to spew at her. Shaking my head, I took a breath and tried again. "I know you're going to think I'm weird for saying this since I know you're not gonna get how I can say this without knowing exactly what went down between us, but...I don't regret it, Bones." I lifted my gaze to her, hoping she'd believe the honesty with which I really hoped I was getting out there in my voice. As expected, she gave me this quizzical stare that made me nervous again, so much so that I had to work really hard not to stammer under her gaze like one of her rookie squints on the first day in the lab when she decides they'll either sink or swim in the span of about two minutes flat. "I mean, I wish I _remembered _it," I amended my statement. "But I don't regret it. And, well—I really hope you don't regret it, either."

_Fuck. There. I'd said it._

_Now what?_

Well, of course, Bones being Bones, in this particular case, she reacted just like I thought she would—no surprises necessary on that one.

"How can you say that?" she asked me. "I mean, I'm assuming that your recall of the situation is the same as mine and that that recall is absolutely nil?"

"Wait," I said, with a shake of my head. "No, I don't...that is, I don't remember anything. Nada. Zip. Zilch. The last thing I remember is getting your damn Stella Artois at the bar and the bartender giving me a dirty look when I snickered about having to wait for your damn chalice, because, apparently they can't serve that frou frou drink in any other type of regular glass. But—"

"You brought it back to the table," Brennan murmured, lost in thought for a minute. "You brought the Stella Artois back to the table for me, you had a Yuengling, and we toasted. I remember that part. But, after...well, there's nothing."

"Right," I nodded at her. "So...we're on the same page there. And that being said, even though I don't remember what we did, I don't regret that we did it. I don't..." My voice trailed off as I realized that my mouth was about a quarter-mile ahead of my brain. I took another deep breath, and then looked into her blue eyes. I could see the trepidation in them, and more than anything—even more than the fact that she was physically hurting—that made my chest feel tight. "I don't regret that we crossed that line last night. You know the one I'm talking about, right?"

"Yes," she responded. "I do."

"Well," I said, "it's been...it's been a long time coming, I think, between us, and...although I kind of wish...well, hell, I totally wish that we'd both have been able to remember what happened last night, if I had it to do over again, the only part of it I think I'd change is the fact that we drank so much we couldn't remember it. But, having said that, I-I...I'd still want to take that step with you, Bones. I-I...maybe that doesn't make any sense. I'm probably just rambling. But it's how I feel about things."

"Well, yes," she nodded. "You are rambling just a bit—particularly since, in my original query, I was just asking―to begin, at least―if your recall of the events that preceded our blackout was as lacking as mine."

"Awww, hell," I said, wincing a bit as I realized I'd already stuck my big foot in my big mouth, not five minutes into what was going to be one of the most important conversations of my entire life. _Fuck_. Exhaling a deep breath, I shook my head, "No, Bones. I don't remember a goddamn thing."

She narrowed her eyes a bit and her forehead crinkled a little as she seemed to be puzzling over what I'd said. "But, now...you said something about wanting to take a next step, right? So, I'm sorry. But, I'm slightly disconcerted here. However, did you say you want to go somewhere?" she blinked at me, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"What?" I coughed. "No, look. That's not it at all."

"But, you just said—" she interrupted me.

"No," I repeated, cutting her off in turn. "Bones, look, I'm just saying that..." I sighed and leaned my head back, taking a few seconds to stare at my ceiling. I brought my eyes back to level with hers and then told her, "I'm just saying that...you know, the reasons that I wanted to be with you yesterday, and last night...those reasons still exist today...tonight. In that sense, nothing's changed. I don't feel...that is—the way I felt about you last night...I still feel that way about you now. It hasn't changed. It's not going to change. It's...it's the same no matter what." I tilted my head at her as I asked in a quieter voice, "Do you understand what I'm trying to say here?"

"No," she shook her head. "I'm sorry...I don't." She paused and bit her lip as she then added, in a more gentle tone. "Yesterday, Booth...I-I...it's hard for me to verbalize, but I don't understand how there's any connection between us―well, to use your terms 'being together'―and how we feel about one another. I mean, you're still my partner, and I'm still your partner. That's hasn't changed, so...I'm sorry, but I'm not certain I understand how or what you're trying to tell me exactly."

I swallowed. _Jesus, Bones, _I thought. _Come on. Work with me a little bit. How's about dialing that literal notch down a few clicks, huh? _"I'm trying to tell you..." I shook my head. It was put up or shut up time here. "Bones," I said. "You know we're more than just partners. You know that. And you've known it for a long time. And the fact is, so have I. We've spent the last four years saying that we're just partners, but the fact of the matter is, that hasn't been true for years. Maybe it never was, but in any case, we stopped being 'just partners' a long time ago. If we were 'just partners,' then a lot of the things between us wouldn't make any sense. And I'm not talking about what happened last night. So, now...do you know what I'm saying?"

She was quiet, looked away, and then said simply, "You're talking about your line, aren't you?"

"Well," I sighed.

The line. That fucking line. If I had a top ten list of really stupid fucking things that I wish I could obliterate out of existence in both time and space, the line―that goddamn line―it would be right there at the top of the list.

"This isn't about the line, Bones. I mean, not really. And that's not what I'm really talking about. We crossed the line. We did, and like I said earlier, I think we've established that point, so no, what I'm talking about is..." _Fuck. _"What I'm talking about is the fact that what I feel for you, Bones, is way the hell more than I've ever felt about anybody I've ever worked with. If we were just partners, it'd be just business between us. It'd be just work, and that's all there'd be between us. That would be it. But we've always been more than that." _Come on, Bones_. "At least...don't you think so?" I stared at her, willing to confess the answer that I knew we both knew in our hearts to be true. "It's okay, Bones. Just...be honest. Don't you think we have something between us that's more than just...the kind of relationship you have with the other people at the lab?"

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><p>Okay, I admit it. I was more than a bit annoyed at his last words. On one hand, I was trying to figure out what to do with what he was telling me about the significance of what he believed to be the set of circumstances that had culminated in the events of last night where we ended up in bed together. On the other hand, I was rather irritated that he wanted to skip over the part where he made an idiotic boundary in the metaphorical dirt between us that had effectively kept us separated for all this time. <em>He <em>did that, not me...and now he was saying it didn't matter?

_What the fuck?_

_Yes, it matters, Booth. It sure as hell does matter. Because I've spent the past year and a half making myself miserable because of your damn line. So, we're not skipping that part. No way, no how._

"Wait," I said, waving my hand at him. "Wait just a minute. Back up for a moment, please."

"What?" he blinked at me in surprise.

"Before we get to any discussion about assessing our current plans for what we will or won't do because of what transpired last night, or how we feel about one another, I firmly believe that we really need to be clear on one very important point. To use a more common parlance, we need to get something straight between us, Booth. Two years ago, you told me that we couldn't work together and be together. Those were your words, albeit paraphrased, and not mine. And, now...just because we ended up in bed after a drunken bender last night, you're saying it doesn't exist? Really? Are you?" I asked him.

"No," he said insistently. "No, that's not what I'm saying at all."

He scowled slightly, not directly at me, but I could tell he was annoyed by what he considered a small point in the face of the larger issue he'd just confessed. But, even still. It was important. It was important to me, because he needed to know that, but for his line, if I'd had my druthers, we'd have gotten together a while ago.

"Look," Booth sighed. "Did I draw that line? Yeah, I did—I sure did. I drew that line. I drew that fucking line 'cause of what happened with Cam and Epps. Alright? I thought that me, being in a relationship with someone I worked with put that other person in danger, and it scared the living shit outta me, Bones."

"Now you're just contradicting yourself," I couldn't help but snap, a bit of annoyance coming into my voice in response to his own frustration. "First you tell me that we've been more than just partners for years, implying that you've had a romantic interest in me for all that time. But, now you're saying that when we had that conversation at Hillside Park, we were just people that worked together. So which is it, Booth? Because, I have to admit, you're starting to confuse the hell out of me even more than I already was today...and that's saying something."

He blinked, looking down at his lap, then shook his head as if in response to some sort of running internal dialogue in his head. "Shit," he muttered. "Alright, look. I'm probably gonna sound like an asshole no matter what I say, so I'm just gonna be a hundred percent honest here, alright? It's...well..."

"Say what you're going to say," I sighed. "You always do," I added even as I realized I'd cut him off. "Especially since we're being honest with one another, remember?"

He ran his hand through his hair as a scowl flashed across his face at my remark. He took a deep breath and sighed, another one of the tell-tale signs that usually heralded Booth making some sort of weighty proclamation.

"I did always have a romantic interest in you, in your words, okay?" he said. "Since the day I met you, Bones. Since that very first day. And, even after that first case, when you didn't want to be in the same time zone as me, never mind work with me, I still thought about you. Then, a year later, we started working together again, and still, I wondered if we could be something, have something, you and me. You know, and I wondered if you maybe felt for me even one-tenth of what I felt about you, because if you did, I knew we could make a go of things."

He paused, turning away for a moment, to collect his thoughts I suppose, then continued as he brought his gaze back to meet mine. "But I...as time went on, and we worked together during that first year, I didn't think you were interested because you were so damn hard to read, and you never said anything different. So I just kept doing my thing, dating, seeing other women and whatever. But I never stopped wanting you. I never stopped wondering if there would ever be a way that maybe, just maybe, we could be something, you and I. But since I wasn't getting a vibe that anything there was...well, reciprocal, I never made a move after you shot me down that first night at the pool hall. But me not making a move doesn't mean I wasn't interested. Far effin' from it, okay? I was _always _interested. I just thought you weren't. So, if you want to know, how is it possible that I could have a romantic interest in you but date other women and keep working with you, well, there it is. It's possible. It happened. There you have it."

He finished his mini rant with another large expulsion of air as he then gulped down several breaths of oxygen and looked away from me again as he once more seemed to gather his thoughts.

As for me...okay, well, _that _was certainly more information than I'd anticipated getting. I'd just wanted to achieve some clarification as to when and why he was attracted to me, and why he decided to draw that damn line. I hadn't really expected anything more, let alone the thorough explanation Booth provided. I suppose I should thank him for anticipating my next question—which would've been why he drew that line back then, i.e., the one that effectively kept us apart, if he felt that way about me even then, although I have to admit I'm still slightly confused about how Cam and Eppes fit into his feelings about me beyond their proximate timing in Booth's life in conjunction with his decision to create that line to keep us separated—but, okay. I can let that one go.

_I-I...I just―oh, God._

The bigger question was...what do I do with all _this_?

Because, if it's true, and he felt that way about me...and I left him six weeks ago—well, shit. What type of person did that make me? And, more importantly, how could he still feel that way about me even when I did something so bad as to reject him and leave him alone at a time when he needed me the most? I suppose that was the next logical place to go, since Booth insisted we be honest with one another, isn't it? I mean...I left him. I cared about him (even if he didn't know it, or how much) and apparently he cared about me...but I left him.

So―oh, God. I knew we needed to talk about this, but I wasn't really certain I wanted to talk about this part. _Still, for Booth...okay._ I knew I needed to do it.

_So, fine..._

Licking my lips, I took a deep breath and then said, "I understand it happened. I do, Booth...but―"

"What?" he asked when my voice trailed off, and I left my sentence unfinished. "But what, Bones?"

I stared at him, my blue eyes looking directly into his soft brown irises, and made my decision to ask the question that I knew he ...no, that _we _needed to have asked_._

"But, Booth," I finally managed to croak. "How can you possibly still feel that way if I...I-I...I left you?"

Fuck, there it was. There it was, right there.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

* * *

><p>She sat staring at me wide-eyed, and more than a bit fearful, and as her bright blue eyes drilled into me, I immediately felt as if Cliff Lee had just belted an 85 mph curveball at me, and it had gone by so fast, that I didn't know what in the hell had happened―only that something major had gone down, and I'd totally missed it when I was caught looking.<p>

_Strike three, Booth. You're out. _

_Damn it._

Hoping that I could back track and salvage whatever thing I'd just apparently fucked up, I asked, "What do you mean, Bones?" I asked.

I was confused. At first, she'd sounded confused, too, so I was feeling relatively positive about not feeling alone in being confused. But after I kind of spilled my guts a little there, kind laid my cards out there on the table, she asks me _that..._and, well, I can honestly said I went from confused to stupefied. I mean...leave? What?

_She left me?_

Huh? What in the hell was she talking about?

God, that woman...sometimes―well, sometimes she can drive a man to drink. And if anyone can factually claim to know that for certain, it's me. I mean, how much alcohol have I guzzled and how many brain cells have I killed because of her, our bender last night being only the most recent in a long line of nights when I'd either needed or had a drink because of her. _Damn it._ So there she was still sitting there, staring at me, looking at me like I was the warden, and she was expecting me to deliver the news that her death row pardon hadn't been granted by the governor, and I don't even understand why.

"Wait," I said. "Back up the Bones Express for a minute, huh? 'Cause I know I missed something. I just don't know what. So, please...what in the hell are you talking about? Because now I'm really confused."

She turned away, her face strained as her voice became a bit rougher with emotion when she spoke, the plea in her voice to me quite clear as she said, "You have to know what I mean. So, please...please...don't make me say it. This is already hard enough as is, Booth―"

I sighed. Yeah, that settled it. I had indeed discovered the most frustrating woman in the universe. I thought about calling the Guinness people. No, not the beer people―because the last fucking thing I needed is a damn beer―I mean the Guinness Book of World Records people. She was killing me here. I was sitting there trying to have a damn conversation, and she was..._ugh!_

_I left you._

I felt the _click _as the light bulb went on in my still somewhat hungover head.

"Wait," I said. "Wait―hold on, mmm'kay?"

I scratched my chin, remembering then that I was still quite scruffy. Why the hell didn't I shave last night before we went out? Yet another brainless idea in a night when I'd been doing things ass backwards.

_Damn it..._

Wait. I needed to focus. Okay, I could do that. Focus. I just needed to focus here. Because she was still looking at me like I had just told her I'd put down her dog while she was out running errands. _Jeez..._

"Look, Bones," I said, determined to make her feel better by any means necessary. "If you're talking about you going to Guatemala after I'd got out of that coma, it's okay. I-I...I don't blame you for that or feel badly about you doing that. It...when I woke up, and I was all messed up, you thought it was better if you were out of my hair so I could get my shit together. I understand that."

"Really, Booth?" she asked, the surprise clearly evident in her voice.

"Yeah," I nodded. "I do―"

"But―" her voice trailed off again as she stared at me with that pained look again in her eyes.

_Damn it._

"I mean, look," I said. "I won't lie and tell you I didn't miss you like hell while you were gone. Because I did. I missed you something fierce." She still gave me a suspicious look which caused me to add, "I mean, hey, I was waiting in your office when you got back to the lab on the way back from the airport, wasn't I?" I asked at her, hoping that as I smiled that maybe she'd take a hint and lighten up just a tad. "Now, you don't actually think that was really a coinkydink, do you?" I cocked my head to the side and gave her a wide-eyed, sheepish look that I'd used on her a hundred times if I'd used it once.

Something flashed in her eyes―almost as if she was indignant about something, which I guess, kinda...maybe? might've been good, because at least indignant isn't sad―as she'd narrowed her gaze and finally said, "No...I don't think it was a coincidence."

"I missed you, Bones," I told her, my voice sincere. "I mean that. I missed you, and I wanted to see you. So, if I was pissed off at you or mad or something, would I've been snoozing on the couch in your office when you got in?"

"No, I suppose not," she responded after a minute.

"Well, there you go then," I said, wondering why I didn't feel more triumphant when her conceding a point like that to me should've been a win, right?

Then, a moment passed, and there it was. She opened her mouth, and the other shoe dropped.

"I understand what you're saying, but I'm not certain if you understand what _I'm _saying," she said.

Okay, I was, apparently, still missing a finer point in the logic that is Bones' mind. Right...

"I'm trying here, Bones," I told her. "But I'm still not certain why you seem to want me to get pissy at you for something. You keep giving me this look like a puppy that's been hit too many times with a newspaper, and I've got a copy of the _Washington Post _rolled up, and I'm all set to swat your nose. So tell me what I'm missing again."

"You're giving me _way _too much credit, Booth," she finally sighed.

Okay, that was a first. Normally, Bones likes to bitch, or at least insinuate, that I don't give her _enough _credit. But then she says I'm giving her _too _much credit? Man, maybe I did get sucked into some weird, alternate _Twilight Zone_ universe.

"Huh?"

"I'm not...I'm not that altruistic or unselfish...and neither are the reasons behind why I did what I did, Booth," she sighed. "I didn't go away to give you space like you seem to think I did. Would that I could claim that I did, but I can't. My motivations...the reasons I left, that is...I just wish that they were more in the unselfish vein that you thought they were, but the truth is, they weren't. And, I can't be disingenuous and not be completely honest with you in this matter. I'd be lying to you if I didn't offer full disclosure about the reason why I really went to Guatemala. And, well, that's something that I just won't do. I won't do that to you. So, no matter how much it hurts, I've got to be honest with you here and now―completely honest, that is―because you deserve that much from me."

I felt myself blanch at hearing her little speech just then. It was like she was setting me up for a big letdown, and I could see it from a mile away. _Don't tell me you ran, _I thought. _That you felt something or didn't feel something and it freaked you out in a major way. Please don't tell me that you got scared and ran away. _If she felt guilty about something she'd done, that was something else all together. That was...well, I felt like that was something I could deal with, you know, by reassuring her somehow. But if she was gonna tell me that she got scared and that she'd ran because of some kinda emotional response she'd had―which I was coming to think was what happened―because, well, it would explain why she'd been so weird and skittish and...well...Sweets would probably call it 'avoidant' or some shit like that but...I don't know...I guess I'd just call it awkward, in a even-more-awkward-than-Bones-usually-is kind of way. Worse yet, I cringed a bit inside at the thought that maybe what she was afraid of wasn't that she felt something for me, but rather that she didn't want to tell me that she didn't feel anything for me. I bit down on the inside of my lip and took a long breath through my nose before I spoke again in response to her last statement.

"Why did you leave, then?" I asked, deciding that I was going to be direct, hoping that she'd reciprocate and that, if she had some bit of painful news to break to me, then maybe she'd just do it and get it over with, like ripping off a bandaid.

As soon as I'd asked the question―the one that I knew she'd wanted me to ask her―she gave me this completely weird look. Her forehead wrinkled up again as her eyebrows flew up, then wiggled a bit up and down as the gears began turning in her head. As her little cerebral turbocharger really got spinning, she pursed her lips together and then rolled them between her teeth, repeating this whole cycle a few times as she chewed her mental cud. After a minute, her eyebrows floated back to their regular place, her forehead smoothed out and the pout-chew-pout-chew thing she was doing with her lips finally wound itself down. Then she looked up at me and stared at me with this narrow-eyed look she often gave me when she was about to crank on me about something.

She took a minute, inhaled a deep breath and then slowly exhaled, before she asked, "Do you honestly not know?"

_No, Bones. I don't. I have no idea what in the fuck you're talking about. So, please...one more time, help me out here, huh?_

Mutely, I shook my head.

She again sighed before she asked me, "How can you not know?"

_Ummmm..._

There are rhetorical questions, and then there are ones like, "How can you not know?" I mean, how am I supposed to know why I don't know something if I don't know it? This is one of the things she does that drives me crazy―and I'll grant you that, from time to time, especially after a long day in the car with her or in the middle of an undercover assignment, it's a really, _really _short trip―when she hits me with these mind-bendingly open-ended questions.

"I mean, really, Booth..." she continued, almost as if I wasn't there, because once she'd started to talk, it seemed, she just kept going and going and going.

_Damn, she's an incredible woman even if she makes my head spin most of the time. Just...damn._

"How many other individuals do you think could get me out for what was just supposed to be one drink an hour after I'd just got back from a six-week dig when I'm fighting jet lag and emotional exhaustion after everything that happened before I left?" she asked me. "Because you know what? The answer's only one...there's just one person who's has ever been able to get me to put him before the lab. Only one."

_Wait, what? _

Okay. That was not...that was so totally not what I was expecting her to say. I was all teed up and ready for a intellectually-embroidered morning-after letdown speech about how it was all a big mistake and she didn't really think have enough in common to be together or else some squinty explanation of how it was going to be better for my neurological recovery blah-blah-blah if...

_What?_

"Wait," I said, holding my hand up as I shook my head in confusion. "Wait a second. Are you saying you left because..." I narrowed my eyes and turned away. It didn't make any sense. "So you're saying that you left because you...because you feel something for me? That's why you left?"

She sighed and looked away. "That was a part of it, yes," she told me, her voice soft as she spoke. "But only part."

I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands. "Look," I said. "You've gotta give me a hint here, Bones. The Psychic Friends Network is a bit congested right now, so I need some help here because I'm just not following you."

She leveled a hard stare at me for a minute and then explained, "It wasn't just how I felt about you...but how I felt about how you've made me feel, Booth." She stopped, pausing, before she continued, "You have no idea how completely and totally bewildering it was. You said you needed time and space to get your shit together? Well, what do you think I've spent the last month and a half doing while I was in Quiroga? I spent the entire time thinking about what had just happened to you, to us, and how I felt about it all...and how, knowing all of that, I still left you." Her voice grew thick with emotion as she looked away from me and shook her head. Her voice was so soft that I barely heard her add, "And that...I think, well― that's what's been the worst part of this entire thing."

"Bones," I said, leaning closer to her for the first time since I'd stopped the backrub. I hesitated for a moment, and then I reached out and touched her knee, a few inches below where the bottom hem of my Phillies T-shirt lay on her thigh. I cocked my head to one side and looked into her glimmering eyes as I stroked my thumb over the round of her knee. "I don't fault you for leaving, okay?" I said. "So don't fault yourself, please. But―what do you mean, how you feel about me, Bones? Maybe I'm a little slow on the uptake here, but..."

I hesitated. I didn't want to make her feel cornered, put on the spot, but I didn't want to scare her either. I felt like we were standing on the edge of a major breakthrough, and I desperately didn't want to fuck it up, but―I took another deep breath before I pressed forward.

"I-I...well..." I winced at my stammering. I could feel my heart thumping in my chest. "I don't know how you feel about me, okay," I said, "and I'm not expecting that you're gonna feel the way I feel. But...you should know, Bones, that...I think about you all the time. I mean, when I wake up in the morning, when I'm going for my morning run, when I'm driving to work, when I'm heading home, and when I click off the remote after watching the game or whatever, and I climb into bed...I'm thinking about you. You, Bones. All the time. There's never a moment when you're far from my thoughts. And...that's not just something new, you know, like something that just happened after I woke up from my coma. It's been that way for a long time. A long, long time. Years, even, like I said before. And..."

_She's gonna run, _I thought as I saw a flicker in her pale eyes and a slight, fleeting twitching of her cheek. Her lips parted and her mouth gaped open a little, as if she wanted to say something but couldn't find the words_. She's gonna get up and walk right out that fucking door, _I said to myself_. Because I'm a stupid fuck who can't keep his mouth shut and quit while he's ahead. Damn it. Fuck me._

I swallowed hard and gave her knee a gentle little squeeze. "And I just wanted you to know that, okay?"

* * *

><p>He had that look in his eyes. It was the scared puppy dog look that Angela identified about two hours after she'd first met him on that first case we worked on so many years ago. Since that time, I've come to know that look. It's the look that he has just when he thinks he's about to lose something he really, really wants. Usually it's related to food or sports. But, this time, he was looking at me that way. And, why would he look at me like that. Unless...wait? Damn it. He means it...doesn't he? He really means it...and he's scared...that he's going to lose me?<p>

_Really? Could it be...? Really?_

If so, I don't understand that man. I really don't.

How can he think he'll lose me when he's the one that should be berating me for being a completely self-centered and selfish bitch because I left him when he needed me the most? I left him...and he just...how can he do that? How can he really think that?

I just don't understand him. I really don't.

Sighing, I looked up at him and said, "Booth―"

"Yeah?" he said, his eyebrows raised expectantly, but as if he were waiting for some metaphorical shoe to drop.

"If you care about me," I began tentatively. "Then―"

"Bones..."

"I understand that you think you care about me," I tried to explain. "And maybe you even do, but, you've got to understand that it's not right to be in denial about things...about me. You have to deal with―"

_He needed to understand. He's got to understand. I've got to make him understand. He can't_―_I can't hurt him like that._

"Bones," he said. "Don't do this. Don't...alright? I care about you." I saw him swallow nervously. "I've known you for four years...five if you go all the way back. You don't need to tell me who you are. I know you, Bones. I _know _you, okay? You and me―we know each other better than anybody. Don't try to talk me out of...you know, to talk me out of wanting to be with you. Don't. Just don't, okay? I want you, Bones, I do." He looked down and stroked his index finger over my knee, a gesture that would have tickled except that, in my state of hyperawareness, it sent a delicious tingle over my skin. "So don't tell me that I don't want you, because I do. I really and truly do. And I don't just mean that in the biblical sense. Although, I mean, I do want to be with you like that. I do. I really do. I mean, I really, _really_ do. But it's more than that. I want to...that is, I want us to try and make something between us, more than what we have had before. Don't sabotage it, Bones, by telling me all the reasons I shouldn't want that. So, come on."

I think...well, for once, as I processed Booth's words, I was, somewhat unusually, rendered slightly speechless. It took me a minute before I could find a piece of his very dense, if impassioned plea to latch onto, finally, I nodded at him.

"I'm trying not to," I told him. "I'm really not, honestly. I just don't understand how you can't have any response to the fact that I left you in your time of need when I should've stayed here if you were just a good friend and my partner, let alone someone I care about very, very much. So, you need to explain that one to me, Booth, because until you do...I don't know how we can get back to the point where I can take you up on that bit about you making it worth my while with making my back feel better...and I sort of would really, _really _like to get back there, I think―and not just because I want someone to work me over...that is, my back."

* * *

><p>All of a sudden, I had this flashback to the training we did in the Rangers when the EOD guys―the explosive ordnance disposal experts―came and and taught us how to make our way through a minefield on foot. They taught us that there was always a safe path through a minefield―well, almost always―but it was a question of proceeding through it in a careful, strategic enough manner that you never put your foot down unless you're sure that there's not a little surprise waiting there in the dirt for you. And, after Bones finished talking, I felt like I was back at Fort Benning, walking across that tilled-up dirt field, putting my foot down and hesitating, wondering if I was going to get the big beep from the instructors that told me I just got turned into a nice puff of pink mist and bootlaces.<p>

I felt like whatever I told her, she wouldn't believe. Somehow, it's like she blamed herself for doing something that she perceived as far worse than I did.

I mean, hell, do I wish she'd been here for the last six weeks? Yeah, of course. But I'm not gonna go all apeshit about it. I sighed, and looked over at her. Her pale eyes looked sad, as if she was waiting for me to punish her for some kind of grievous trespass. I swear, sometimes I'm not really sure she's not a hard core Roman Catholic in atheist clothing, because I really don't think I've ever met anyone who wasn't a Catholic who did guilt as well as she did―well, except for my one friend Adam Greenspan, who I played Little League with, and stayed friends with even though we went to different high schools; he had that whole Jewish guilt thing going on pretty hard, but anyway...

"Bones," I began, watching her eyes as my mind raced and I tried to figure out what to say. "Look, okay? Do I wish you'd have been here the last six weeks? Yeah, sure. I missed you, alright? I've had a lot of damn free time to sit around and do nothin' because I wasn't cleared to go back to work until yesterday, and aside from doctor's appointments and shit, I was bored. I mean, there's only so much Xbox one man can play, right? And, yeah, it'd have been a lot more fun to squander six weeks with you than without you. Okay? Sure. I'll admit it. Easy. And, well, as for the rest of it, was I a little puzzled about why you left? Yeah, I'll admit that, too. But was I ever angry or upset that you went? No, I wasn't. I didn't understand exactly why you left, but I'm not gonna begrudge you for it. That's not right, and I'm not gonna do it..."

My voice trailed off, and I felt my temples tighten up. By the time this discussion was over, if she hadn't run halfway to Indonesia, I was gonna need a serious massage of my own.

_Jesus, Bones._

I drew another breath. "You remember how scared I was before I got wheeled in for my surgery?" I asked her, my voice quiet as I asked her.

"Yes, of course," she nodded. "I don't think I've ever seen you look like that before in the entire time that I've known you."

"Well," I shrugged. "I was scared shitless, Bones. I didn't want you to know it at the time, but I was." I paused for a few seconds, and then tilted my head to look at hers, as I told her, "You know, it's funny, because I've been shot at, tortured, dropped from airplanes behind enemy lines in Kosovo, plopped from a helicopter into hot landing zones in Iraq and Somalia, and all kinds of crazy, dangerous shit. But I've never been as freaked as I was laying on that gurney getting wheeled in there to have some doc dig around in my brain box." I paused and smiled. "But you know what?" I asked. "I've never seen you look as scared, in all the years I've known you, as you did when I saw your face when I woke up in that hospital room."

"I _was_ scared," she admitted. "I was...I can't deny it. And...well, what happened happened, like you said. I-I just―I just don't know what to do or say here, Booth. I really, don't."

"I'm not asking you to say anything, Bones," I said. "You asked me about you leaving, and why I didn't...I don't know...why I am not or wasn't more critical of your decision to go. I guess what I'm saying here―the important part of this whole damn thing is this...okay, Bones? Are you paying attention to me?"

She slowly nodded her head to let me know she'd understood what I was saying and that I had her completely undivided attention.

"Okay, then. Ready?"

She nodded again.

"Good," I said. "Then...here goes. I'm not angry with you. I don't blame you. I'm not going to beat up on you about what happened. There's no point to it. And, more importantly, that's not what I want now, Bones. It's not what you should want, either, by the way. It's not important. Really, it's not. Besides, some good came out of it. I mean, if going through all that―thinking I was gonna die, or be turned into some sort of numbnut that had to spend the rest of his life working in a job with his name embroidered on his shirt―"

I saw twinkle flash in her eyes.

"Of course," she said, unable to avoid letting a tugging at the corner of her mouth almost turn into a smile as she interrupted my unexpected little rant. "You do realize that you already have both a summer and winter wardrobe that has your last name emblazoned on everything from jackets to sweatpants, right?"

"Hmmm," I murmured as a grin broke across my face. "With the way you're always stealing my fries and absconding with my good pens, and trying to finagle a way to drive the Sequoia, I figure the only way to keep you from walking off with my high-speed, low-drag FBI gear is to make sure everything has my name on it." I stuck my tongue out and waggled it, then gave her a light-hearted shrug. "Seriously, though," I said. "What I'm trying to say is, going through all that, it's like everything that I kind of knew but wasn't really willing to pull together in my head and understand as a whole―you know, the way I feel about you, and what I want with you―it all suddenly crystalized for me. It...I-I guess it took me almost buying the farm for me to realize what I should've friggin' figured out three years ago, but I did. And now you know. So, that's all that really matters, Bones. That's the only thing that's important. You. Me. Us. Together."

She was a quiet for a minute and then nodded. "So, what happens next then?" she asked me.

"You're my anchor, Bones," I told her, the heartfelt nature of the sincerity in my response making me feel a tad cheesy, but I didn't really care in that moment. "You know, we always said that we were the center. The fact is, Bones, is that you're _my _center. And, well, I don't want to let another week or month or year go by that we don't try to make this thing between us into the something it's capable of being. I want to give us a chance, Bones. You and me. That's the big picture. And, well...whatever you need, Bones, just tell me, and I'll do it, but if we're talking about short strokes here, then I think I want to see about making that back of yours feel better." I smiled. "And then, well, if I can do that, well, we'll see what happens next then, huh?"

Her brow furrowed again as she seemed to take a moment to get the squint gears of that genius brain of hers turning one more time―not that it seemed like they ever stopped grinding, in any case―and then she nodded as she told me simply, "Okay."

I couldn't believe it. Jesus Christ. It was _that _simple? Really?

_Nawww. It couldn't be._

"Whoa," I said. "Seriously? Really?"

"Yes," she nodded at me, yet again adding another piece to the puzzle in my belief that I'd been sucked into a weird alternate universe.

But if I got to be with her, like this, here and now, us together? Well, then fuck it. I don't care. Leave me here. I'm good with that. _Really_.

"Wow," I mouthed again. I knew if I could see the stupid smile that was on my face in that moment, I probably would've cringed. But, right then, I really didn't give a shit. Because there's no force in the known universe that could've wiped that grin off of my face. Unless I was still having auditory hallucinations associated with my brain tumor―which would suck, since they were supposed to get that whole damn thing out of my head―then I think I just heard Bones say she was willing to give this, meaning _us, _a chance.

_Wow._

Seriously?

_Wow. Just...wow._

* * *

><p>I have to admit it, I was somewhat...exhausted from the whole discussion we'd just had.<p>

It was a lot of stuff to go through and to deal with on a good day when both of us were well fed, well rested, and prepared to deal with the topics we'd just touched on in great depth.

But, then again, who were we kidding? If we'd waited until we had the optimum conditions materialized, it's highly likely that we would've never ended up where we had―having apparently metaphorically pole-vaulted past Booth's damn line, to the better place we were now...even if neither one of us could remember ever having made the jump.

I suppose, in a way, that was what irked me the most. I can't lie and say that it didn't really annoy me that I apparently was so out of control that I'd ended up in bed with my partner. I didn't really take issue with the fact that I ended up in bed with Booth. I did resent the recklessness that somehow seized control of my jet-lagged, emotionally-frayed, and generally exhausted frame of mind. I was also very, _very _pissed off that I couldn't remember anything that happened because...well, Booth and I finally had sex, and I didn't remember anything. And, it wasn't just the fact that I was pissed off over the fact that I didn't have the memories of the first time we were physically intimate. No...well, at that point, what I think I was more upset about was all the knowledge that I lost in not retaining those memories. So, just to be clear...I wasn't angry at Booth. I wasn't. I was just angry over the fact that this incredible thing had happened between us, and I had a huge blank spot in my memory where I should have had this very valuable dataset...of how he likes to be touched, of what he sounds like when he's being touched like he likes to be touched, of what drives him crazy...and of what can drive him even crazier if I push things with him. I wanted to know what color his eyes turn to when he's sexually aroused, and he knows release is near. I wanted to know what he looks like when he's about to come...because of me.

I wanted to know what _I_ can do to him...what effects I can have on him. I wanted to know how much I can push one of the most reserved and controlling individuals I know into a space of trust and vulnerability where he's only acting that way, showing that side of himself _only _to me. I wanted to know what he tastes like...both his kisses and his body. I wanted to know what he sounds like when he's moaning and groaning because of me, because of what I'm doing to him. I wanted to hear him say my name like he's never said it before because he's inside me. And, damn it, but I was fucking pissed off that all that happened that night, and I didn't retain one goddamn shred of information. Not a single piece. I lost it all―just as if my hard drive had crashed and no one had backed up the fucking data. But, in a way, it was even worse, because neither of us could even remember what was done and what wasn't. And, I feel like...I was just so annoyed! I needed that information before we could proceed forward. I should be able to touch him and be with him and have some baseline of comparison for what happens next because of what's already happened with us. I should.

So, based on that assumption, I suppose the next question was..._what can I do about that? _Was there even anything I could do about it? And, if so...what?

I mean, I could see he was over there, sitting on the edge of the bed and waiting for me to say something, and I wanted to say something, but...ohhh. _Wait_.

_Wait._

_Wait, wait, wait._

_Heh._

I think I'd either just had either one of the most idiotic or one of the best ideas that has ever occurred in the history of the human psyche. Okay, that was definitely a complete and total exaggeration for a number of reasons that I won't go into now, but really...I had an epiphany. I suddenly had a good idea on how to fill in some of those blanks in both our heads without necessarily having to proceed too far beyond where we were right then (and thus complicate things further instead of simplifying them as was my hope).

Because, that's what I wanted to do, and the idea I'd had. Well, it _was _quite simple, really―and I think that was the beauty of it, all things considered.

The simple fact of the matter is, I needed a large chunk of data to replace the one I blacked out on when we had sex last night. Since, I'd preferred not to initiate or engage in another round of sexual intercourse until I felt a bit more confident and comfortable about how this new aspect of my relationship with Booth had developed, then somehow I needed to find another way to replace that data that had been lost.

So, if I wanted to know what he looked like, what he sounded like, what I could do to him because he's sexually attracted to me...well, then, there's another way I can get that information without the two of us necessarily having to have sex, right?

The answer is yes.

So, now, I just needed to see if he was...well...amenable to the suggestion.

Taking a deep breath, I steeled my resolve and told him reassuringly, "I'm not panicking."

"Are you sure?" he asked gently, as his brow furrowed as he took in the sight of me going through this exercise of trying to come up with a workable solution to our most current, in my opinion, issue. "Because, if you are, it's okay. Really. That's...a lot for anyone to process, Bones."

"Yes," I agreed. "But, it's not like I haven't been thinking a lot about those matters in different contexts for some weeks now...so, I think I'm okay."

"But?" he asked, his voice quiet with obvious worry.

"But," I nodded, a small grin tugging at the edge of my lips as I'd realized just how well this man knew me. "You're right. Something's still bothering me, and I won't feel...I won't feel at ease enough to really see what this thing between us might be until we...until we can figure out someway for me to fill in some of the blanks from last night." He gave me another blank, completely clueless look, so this time, I didn't wait for him to tell me that he was confused, and I needed to provide clarification to him. "Now," I began. "I know that, barring hypnosis or some other type of psychological or psychiatric treatment, it's distinctly probably that I'll never remember all of the specifics of what transpired between us last night...but for right now, I'll settle for the most important facts."

Booth blinked at me for what seemed like an entire minute before he asked, "Bones, what in the hell are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying," I said. "We had sex last night―"

"Yeah," Booth agreed hesitantly, almost like he was walking into some type of trap that he knew he was probably going to have regrets about later, even though he'd seen the trap for the quagmire it was for the very first time he sighted it. "Yeah, I thought we agreed on that part. We did. We did have sex."

"And, I can't remember it...and neither can you," I continued.

He nodded. "Right." Booth then asked me, before he let his voice trail off, "And...?"

"Well," I told him, licking my lips in what I hoped appeared to be a smooth move that didn't bely how jittery I'd suddenly become when I realized what I was going to ask him. "So, before we proceed and do something rather simplistic to replace that data by simply reenacting last night, as I'm sure you're going to suggest by that we directly proceed with the next step between us, logically, being for us just to have sex right now...well, errr―I need you to humor me."

Booth swallowed nervously before he croaked, "Uhhh, how?"

"I-I...I need to replace the data I lost," I explained in a rather lame way. "I-I need...I need to be able to tell how you looked...how you sounded...how whatever happened to you because of me that...well, damn it." I sighed as a bit of my uncharacteristic nervousness manifested itself as slight frustration in my verbalization. Shaking my head, knowing the die was cast, I pressed forward. "That is, before we have sex again, I need to know how you like to be touched and what brings you pleasure...and how to make you crazy, Booth. And, the only thing I can think of that can give me that information without recovering my memories is if I can...if, that is, if...I can watch you touch yourself."

There, I'd said it.

I'd said it, and I could see him staring at me as if I'd just greeted him in Urdu or Basque.

_Damn it._

Well, that's just...well, it was just too bad. If he was surprised, he'd just need to get over it. This was what he needed to do for me because, well, he'd said it―_'whatever you need, Bones, just tell me, and I'll do it.'_ So, there it was. That was what I needed from him. This was what I wanted from him.

So, yeah, there it was.

Now, I guess I just was going to have to see if he was serious or not.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** _Huh. How 'bout them apples? What a cheeky request. And Bonesy/Brennanesque as all get-out, huh? You think he's gonna do it? If he does, you think it'll be hot? _*grins* _You know it will. If he does, that is. Which _*cough* _we can't say one way or the other. _

_Yes, yes, yes...it's yet another very strategic, Dharmasera-style cliffhanger. "Strategic" being French for "You women are trying to drive us fucking crazy with these cliffhangers." Yes, well. We know you'll come back to see what happens next. Yes, you will. Oh please. Admit it. _*smirk*

_So, we said this before, but this is one of a group of fairly experimental pieces Dharmasera is doing right now. This one, of course, is experimental from the standpoint of the style in which we've written it. First person narrative is a tricky thing. It either works or it doesn't. Alternating first person is even more difficult to pull off in a way that preserves a coherent narrative, especially where the narrators have such dramatically different ways of thinking and speaking. In any case, we hope this is working for you folks, but we'd love to hear from you._

_Let us know what you thought of this fourth installment of "He Said, She Said." It's a great opportunity to put that very nice, new and improved, bright and oh-so-sparkly review button to good use._

_Yeah, that's it. That button down there. Mmm-hmmm. Yes, that one. Push it. Oh, yeah, like that._

_Thanks! We love you guys and we always, always love hearing from you._


	31. 31—He Said, She Said, Part V

**A Very Bad Idea**

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><p><strong>By<strong>**:** dharmamonkey & Lesera128  
><strong>Rated<strong>**: **M  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>**: **Ummm, nope, we still don't own anything. We have, however, apparently become squatters in the sandbox that we crashed... so, umm... yeah. There we go.

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><p><strong>AN****: **_Sorry for the delay in updates, folks, but we're pretty sure you remember where we left our two heroes at the end of the last installment. Brennan needs to gather some data to replace the data she lost when she blanked out on what happened the night before. Now, let's find out if Booth agrees to her request._

**UNF ALERT**: _Right. If you remember what kind of "data" Brennan is trying to replace and the nature of the request she made, then you know what's coming up in this next installment. If you don't, well, let's just say that if you don't like reading about steamy stuff, or shouldn't be,turn back now. Otherwise, please proceed with all due haste to read this next chapter. It's gonna be a scorcher. At least, we think it's pretty hot. But we're biased :-) And, for all you lurkers out there, please consider leaving a review. (It's like tipping. Not required, but it keeps the staff motivated, attentive, prompt and un-surly.)_

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><p><strong>VIII. He Said, She Said, Part V<strong>

**Pertinent Details on Scenario #8****: **Set during the beginning of episode 5x01: "Harbingers in the Fountain."

* * *

><p><em>Wait, what? What did she say?<em>

I'm pretty sure I just stared at her for a few seconds. My mouth was probably gaping open, too, based on the way she was looking back at me.

_She didn't...that is...she didn't just ask me to...she, Bones, my partner, the woman I was now in bed with, hadn't just asked me to..._

_I had to have heard wrong. I know it. I know I heard wrong._

I just knew I did.

_Didn't I?_

So, alright, I'll admit: Bones never ceases to surprise me. From the very first word 'go' when I met her way back when, she's always kept me on my toes. Like I think I've said (and if so I'll say it again), that's one of the things that I love about her. Sometimes she surprises me in a mildly amusing but I'm-not-exactly-falling-out-of-my-chair kind of way, and sometimes she surprises me in a who-are-you-and-what-did-you-do-to-my-partner kind of way. This—if I'd heard her right, and I still wasn't convinced I'd had since I'm certain some fine print on my hospital discharge papers said somewhere that auditory issues were a side effect of my surgery—but, well...if I _had _heard her right, then this was somewhere on the latter side of the Bones Surprise Spectrum.

I mean, _what? _

_Jesus H. Christ..._

_Wait...she didn't just ask me to jerk off in front of her?_

Right? _Except, she did._

_Fuck._

I mean, I've always known that she's very open-minded about...well, sex. And...things of a sexual nature. And hey, for the most part, so am I―even though she may not have realized it yet―but, I've got to admit, she sure hit a dinger with that one. And, that's saying something because...well, not to brag or anything, but I've been with my fair share of women over the years..._heh_...and done a _lot _of things with most of those women. Not anything too strange, mind you. I mean, I draw the line at things involving power tools, sharp pointy objects, dental anesthetics, and four-legged animals. Still, I don't think anyone has even suggested it to me. It's sorta...well, it's never really come up, I guess, because why would I want to jerk off or watch a woman rub herself into oblivion if either one of us was there to oblige the other with a helping hand...tongue...or other sexual organ. So, ummm, yeah. I'll have to admit, I've never, _ever_ had a woman ask to watch me jack off. Not once, in all this time.

_Never. Nunca. Not a once. _

Which, as I said, unless I am completely losing my mind, well—that was a Boothy first when I heard her ask me to do what I think she'd really just asked me to do.

_Huh_.

Still, to make certain I wasn't hallucinating again—because, well, given how strange the last twenty-four hours had been, it should be obvious why I might be worrying that my noggin' was on the fritz again. But, then again, it's not like I could come up with this type of awesome shit on my best day. At least, I didn't think I could. Either way, I needed to make sure. So, that's why I tilted my head and put on what I hoped wasn't a look that she would think that said I thought what she'd just asked me to do was weird or strange or...well, not to put too fine a point on it, but anything that I wouldn't do since she'd pulled the trigger and asked me to do it for her since I know that probably wasn't any easy thing for her to do.

"Uhhhh, Bones?" I said, noting that the expression on her face suggested that I must be looking at her like a goat looking at a watch.

"Yes, Booth?" she replied, her voice even and without a hint of hesitation, even as she looked at me with a questioning glint in her eyes.

"Umm, well, uhhhh," I stammered, my forehead creasing as I struggled with her request. "I-I just...I just wanna make sure that I heard you right so that I don't fuck anything up here."

There. That was good. Very good. It took any weirdness that she might've sensed because of my original question and turned it back on me. Perfect. _Well played, Booth. _Shit.

"Okay, Booth," she nodded at me. "Thank you. That's very thoughtful of you."

_Heh_. She thought I was being thoughtful. _Fucking-A..._

"Errr, no problem," I said with a nod. "So...ummm, well, you want me...to jack off, here and now...so you can watch me do it?"

She cocked her head as she listened to my short ramble and then nodded in reply. "Yes," she said. "That's correct."

_Holy shit_.

I wasn't hallucinating. I really wasn't hallucinating. I opened my mouth to speak, then paused, closing it again.

_She can't be serious, _the voice in the back of my head snickered.

Even though I'd checked for verification, I still couldn't believe it. What a fucking surreal situation. It's real, but if it's not real, I wouldn't be surprised if this the part of the dream where I wake up and realize, just like my damn coma dream, that it was all a freaky blip on my neurological radar and none of it really happened. Then, once that happened, I was going to be pissed off. Very, very, _very _pissed off. As in wanting to go out and find the nearest clown and/or ice cream truck to shoot. Because...well, she wanted to watch me jerk myself off, to wank myself with my own hand, right in front of her, until I came.

_Hmmm._

Okay, although a part of me admitted that there was something incredibly erotic about her suggestion, there was still another part of me that was...well, kinda nervous at the prospect. Now, I did my best to clobber that latter fucking part of my dumb fucking mind until it was a bleeding dumb fucking dead mess in front of me, but the fact of the matter was that the very thought of it...actually, well, it still unnerved me, okay?

Now, it wasn't the jacking off part―I mean, hell, I'm a guy...a single guy...I jack off every day.

_Hmmmm. _

Well, okay. Sometimes twice a day.

And to be honest, most of the times I jack off, I'm thinking about Bones.

_Shit. _Who am I kidding? I'm always thinking about Bones when I jack off.

I...well...I couldn't think of the last time I jacked off and thought about anyone or anything other than Bones. Is that bad? I wonder what she would think if I told her that. Would it make her feel good―you know, flattered? Or would it freak her out? I don't think it would've. Because, considering she'd just asked me to rub one out in front of her, I'm not exactly sure she was capable at that point of freaking out about anything that might come out of the E! True Hollywood Confessions of one Seeley J. Booth's Sexual Playbook.

Even though I'd already asked her, it wasn't enough. I really needed to make sure I had this straight, and so I needed her to tell it to me again. One more time. Just because I'm slow on the uptake sometimes.

"So you really want me to jerk off?" I asked, licking my lips as I repeated my earlier question. "And you wanna watch...so you can see what it looks like when I come?"

* * *

><p>When he asked me the same question for the second time—or, possibly the third time, depending on one's definition of what exactly constituted a repeat of the question that had been asked since there had been a minute variation in his word patterning—I knew something was...well...off. Still, when he looked at me with such trusting openness shining in his eyes, I dismissed the thought as a fluke.<p>

Even I had to admit that it had been a bit of...well, an unorthodox request on my part. But, he _did _say that he was willing to do whatever I needed him to do for me. I'd like to think that by making such a request that I was actually showing him how much I trusted him. After all, it's not like this was the type of entreaty that I solicit from all my lovers.

In fact, when I made my request of Booth, it was actually the first time I'd ever needed or even wanted to experience such a thing with another person. And, I wasn't just doing it because I was looking for some wild and crazy way to metaphorically top whatever kink or kinks we'd apparently engaged in the night before. The fact of the matter was, I wanted to know him...in every way possible. And, before we could progress to a place where I felt comfortable in knowing that I wouldn't disappoint him when we finally engaged in coitus, I simply needed more information. Short of asking him to do the same thing, record it on some type of digital media, allow me to watch it, and then reconvene to resume our current past times, I didn't know how else to get what I both needed and wanted unless I suggested the idea to Booth.

Besides, it's not like I think he'd be into the digital media thing any more than I would be beyond its practical uses. While I like to think I'm quite open minded sexually, I see no reason to take any chances that evidence of such proclivities might eventually be found by anyone of whom I didn't want to have such knowledge. That's why I've never taken erotic photographs or made explicit recordings because probability dictates that once such a thing exists, eventually _someone _some way will find it. The only way to ensure that such a thing never occurs is to never create it in the first place. In either case, that left me back to the original request I'd made of Booth.

True, I wouldn't have put it in such basic terms, but despite the crudeness of Booth's terminology, it appeared he understood what I was asking when he asked me if I really wanted to watch him masturbate. After a minute, after I confirmed that he'd understood me correctly, I tried to assess what his response was. For a few very long moments that were unusually tense with the possibility that he might say no to what I had asked of him, I have to admit that I couldn't tell what his response to my request was...besides shock, that is. I could tell I'd caught him off-guard. I'd _definitely _surprised him—not that _that _was anything new between us.

In the past, Booth has often said that I do that to him—surprise him, that is. I think that's part of what he finds simultaneously fascinating and infuriating about me. The part that I find interesting about that circumstance, however, is that he doesn't seem to realize that the way in which I process information and think is quite predictable. Thus, if one can understand such processes, my behavior is actually fairly consistent. But, judging from the look he had on his face as he struggled to formulate a response, it seemed like I'd just suggested made some type of random and completely baseless idiotic suggestions. I mean, it's not like I claimed something like the fact that human beings are, in fact, silicon-based lifeforms who breathe helium and spontaneously reproduce asexually every 100 days. Or, to use an allusion that Booth might appreciate more, it's not like I just suggested that Major League Baseball had just gone bankrupt from a lack of fan support and public interest in the United States and had decided to embrace lacrosse as the new national pastime. All I'd done is ask him if I could watch him do something that I'm sure he does quite often—at least once a day, if not more frequently, given what the research statistics say about his gender, age group, marital status, and living arrangements—anyway.

Still, he was giving me that strangely befuddled and more than slightly frazzled look. The longer he looked at me in such a bewildered manner, punctuating his strange look with an occasional random pattern of blinks to break up his stunned look, the more I started to feel uncomfortable.

I mean, come on—it's not _that _bad. Right? Because, I knew he was attracted to me. I knew it. I knew that to be an almost indisputable fact because I think our past conversation established a_t least_ that much for both of us. And, not to repeat too salient a point, but he _did _say that whatever I needed for him to do, he'd do it.

So, if that was what I _wanted _from him, and more importantly, if that was what I _needed _from him, there were only two answers that I could provide verbally to his last set of queries.

After another minute, my decision made, I lifted my gaze to him and replied with my eyebrows raised expectantly, "Yes and yes."

* * *

><p>I took a breath and expelled it in a soft puff between my lips as soon as she'd answered my questions.<p>

"Yes and yes."

There could be no wiggle room for mistaking them apples. She wanted me to jerk off, and she wanted to watch me do it.

_This is crazy_, that voice echoed in my head. _Crazy...but she asked. And you did tell her that you'd do whatever she needed you to do, which includes this. Besides, it might not be that bad. It might be...well...sorta hot, if you just stop overthinking things and go with it. And who knows? If you do a good enough job, she might get turned on enough that she'll want to reciprocate and then __you__ can watch __her__ get off. And that would be fucking epic. So, how is this a bad thing?_

Hmmm...

My internal monologue did have a point.

If _I_ got to watch _her _touch herself, how was _this _such a bad thing?

Hmmm...

The answer was that it wasn't—so long as I was right that there would be some _quid pro quo_ in this for me if I played my cards right. I mean, look, just purely looking at the odds, the worst that could happen is I'd go all-in, agree to wank myself off in front of her and get off, but she refuses to reciprocate, then at least I'd have gotten myself off, which at that point, would do quite nicely seeing as how horned up I'd managed to get giving her that massage. Best case, she'd agree to my proposal, and I'd rub one out for her, get off, then see her do the same, which I was pretty damn sure would be hot as all fuck, then she'd be charged up and ready to go for the main event. And, for that matter, so would I. I imagined the odds were probably even for either of these scenarios coming to pass. So, yeah. I really couldn't see a downside to this sort of wager. But, just to be on the safe side, I decided to toss the idea out there and see what she thought.

"So, alright," I said. "So, ummm...just one more question, Bones."

"Yes, Booth?" she responded almost instantly.

"Well," I began. "If...uhh... I do that...I mean, if I do what you want me to do...does that mean, that...err...well, after I'm done, does that mean...what―are you gonna touch yourself so I can watch, too?"

A crooked half-grin―almost more a look of relief, really―broke across Bones' face and she said, "I don't know." She paused, considered my suggestion, and then shrugged her shoulders as she said, "I hadn't originally considered such a happenstance, but upon reflection, I don't think I'm opposed to the idea." I watched her for another minute, her face softening slightly and her voice lowering in tone as she asked quietly, "Would...that is, if you knew I was going to reciprocate, would that act as an incentive to get you to touch yourself so that I could watch?"

I could feel myself blush a little as I shrugged and grinned a bit sheepishly.

Would that act as an incentive?

_Heh. Well..._

Setting aside whether I really needed a huge incentive or inducement to do what she'd asked me to do, I definitely found the idea of getting to watch her come as enticing. _Enticing? _No, more like the best, most fucking awesome thing ever. How many times had I fantasized about what her beautiful face would look like when she shattered beneath me? _Hmmm. _Well, let's see...yeah, I'd say that's basically what I think about every time I rub one out in the shower. That's what I'm thinking about: her rockin' body, taking her rockin' body, feeling that rockin' body break apart around me, and the look on her face when it happens. Yep. Definitely.

_Heh._

"Ummm...yeah," I nodded. "It would."

Again, because Bones always does this—the overthinking/overanalyzing thing, that is—she took her sweet time in thinking about my response. After another tortorous moment, she asked, "So, then, by that statement, I can infer that you would derive some amount of...pleasure from watching me touch myself?" She stopped, looked off for another second, and then refocused her gaze on mine as she asked in that soft voice of hers that I was just beginning to figure out could drive me up a fucking wall with desire, "That is...would you like that?"

What part of me really wanted to say was, _fuck, yeah. Of course I'd fucking like that. _But I was still a little bit hesitant about this whole thing, and I didn't want to freak her out, so I bit my tongue.

But, then, when I thought about it...when I realized that she'd asked me _'Would you like that?' ..._well, something clicked in my brain. I don't know why it took me so long to pick up on the meaning of that little ditty—chalk it up to the epic motherfucking hangover and the surreal turn my love/sex life was apparently taking. The important point is that the good ol' gears of the Boothy Brain, Model 2000X, finally did catch up and figured out that when she said that, I knew she was going to be open-minded about the whole damn thing. I knew, if I gave her what she wanted, she was more than going to reciprocate and give me what I wanted. And _that _was something I wanted. I wanted to see her. I wanted to hear her. I mean, I wanted to touch and taste and feel her pretty fucking badly, too. But, I didn't want to be greedy—at least, not at the beginning.

So, what the fuck. I decided at that point, I was in.

Once I made that decision, it was just a question of how to...hmmm, well...how to start.

I scratched my head and stared into my lap for a moment, before I looked back up to her. "I, uhh, well..." I rubbed my fingers, still a bit greasy from the baby oil I used for the back rub, along one of the seams of my down comforter. "I, umm...when I, uhh, do this...you know, when I'm by myself..."

I thought about the last time I'd done it. I was in the shower, getting ready for my fit-for-duty meeting with Sweets, and I'd felt this sort of unsprung tension, a tingly, jumpy sensation that ran through my back and shoulders down to my fingertips. It wasn't that I was nervous about the thing with Sweets, but...I'm not sure exactly what it was. I knew from Angela that Bones was coming in that afternoon on a flight from Guatemala, so maybe that was it. As I thought about seeing Bones again, after nearly six weeks—the longest we'd been apart since we started working together as partners—I'd sorta just started thinking about her and the way she looked.

I'd leaned against the tile wall, letting the shower spray pummel my back as I fisted myself, then closed my eyes and thought of the dress she'd bought to wear to the awards dinner she'd asked me to go to with her the night the Gravedigger snatched me last year. I'd never actually gotten to see her wear the dress when she'd been all gussied up, but I had seen it on her when she rescued me from that damn naval ship before it had gone kerflooey and taken me with it. She'd also shown the dress to me when she'd bought it so that, she said, we wouldn't clash at the awards banquet since I was technically going as her "date." She was incredible, in that black and grey dress with the way the neckline the way it pushed those delicious breasts of hers up and together. The day that she'd shown me the dress, I'd tried to do everything not to stare at the cleft between her breasts, but in my shower, all bets were off, and I thought about burying my face in that sweet space, feeling it damp with her sweat as I inhaled the swirling smell of her perfume and her sweat.

I'd stroked myself hard and fast as I'd thought about her in that dress, and about what it would be like to get her out of that dress. Each time I'd jerked myself, feeling the skin slide up and down my hard dick, I'd licked my lips and thought how great those magnificent tits of hers would feel under my tongue. My balls had tightened as I'd visualized pushing her dress up around her waist and taking her against the wall, rolling my hips back and driving into her as she moaned each time I tugged on my dick. I'd stroked myself, harder and faster as I rammed into her until the moment she sighed and called out my name: "_Booooooothh_..."

That's when I'd broken and but damn it had felt good. And now she wanted me to do the same thing in front of her again. Hmmm.

"I suspected as much," I heard her say. She looked at me, curiosity clearly piqued as she asked, "So, when you do it, tell me—what do you normally do?"

_Fuck. _I think she just asked me to talk dirty to her. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._

_Shit, that's hot. _

"I, uhh," I swallowed once. "I usually don't have any clothes on," I said as I glanced down at the T-shirt and pair of boxers I'd put on before I went back to bed the second time after we'd woken up. "So...ummm, yeah. I think, that is, I know it would feel kinda weird to, umm, you know, do it with my clothes on." I paused and then tilted my head as I asked, "Is it okay if I, well, take them off?"

Bones arched an eyebrow and gave me a nonplussed look. "Booth, I just asked you to masturbate in front of me and you agreed," she said. "I think we've established a certain level of intimacy by that exchange, combined with our long standing partnership and friendship, don't you?"

Mutely, I nodded.

The fact was, no woman had ever asked me to jerk off in front of her, and the fact of the matter is, there's probably only one woman on earth that I'd really be willing to do that for. And she just asked me to rub one out for her, so she could watch. Yeah, I'd say that's pretty fucking intimate there, Bones.

"Well, then," she continued. "I can't see how I could possibly be embarrassed by or object to you removing some or all of your clothing before that transpires, especially considering the fact we're currently in _your _apartment in _your _bedroom in _your _bed. As such, I think you should do whatever makes you comfortable or...do this however you would do it if you were alone."

I couldn't help but laugh a little at her typical standard application of logic rationality to make me feel like I was an idiot for asking her if I could get naked when I was half-sitting/half-laying next to her. "Well," I said. "Okay. Then, umm, well—to be honest, if I was going to do this like I do it when I'm alone, then I wouldn't be here in bed because usually I do it in the shower. It's...ummmm—well, it's just less messy that way." For a minute, the idea of Bones and me naked and dripping wet in my shower popped into my mind. _Fuck, that's a hot idea_. But not now. First...I had to take things slow. I had to give her what she wanted and then she'd give me what I wanted. _Okay...so...here goes._ "Since we're already here, I assume you want me to do it, you know, here in the bed, right?" I asked her.

She took another moment to think about things before she answered me.

_Okay, this is weird, _I thought as I watched her consider my question_. Not necessarily bad, or even un-sexy, but weird. More surreal than anything. Because it means it's actually gonna happen. I'm gonna get naked and get hard and jack off in front of Bones...and then she's gonna get wet and touch herself and come in front of me...and then God willing, we're going to fuck like maniacs and remember that epic awesomeness this time. Fuck, yes!_

Eventually, she finally came up with an answer to my question that apparently made her happy. "Well," she began. "Yes, I think from a practical standpoint, it makes sense to start here since we're both already situated here before we move to any other locations. Also, from a logistical standpoint, I think it's a better idea since I can see you better here and observe what happens while you're touching yourself than if we were in the confines of your tub." She paused again before she gave me that sly and mischievous grin of hers that made my nuts get heavy and my dick jerk just seeing it. From the very first night, it had always been like that, and I think it always will be. _Fuck, I'm such a goner_, I thought. The fact was, I didn't really even fucking care. She was still talking, and my brain only clicked back in when I heard her ask, "And, well, not to put too fine a point on things, but I do think it would be less risky to stay here in the bed, just in case one of us got too preoccupied or something, so that no one succumbs to physical injury because of being too distracted while standing or walking on wet tiles and slippery surfaces, correct?"

_Too preoccupied? Too distracted? Fuck, yes! _

I sure as hell hoped that, after I let her watch me get off, and me watching her get herself off, that we'd be both _very _preoccupied and _very _distracted—that is, uber preoccupied with getting things on and taking things to the next fuckin' level and uber distracted by how said getting things on was making us feel―pun intended. Because...well, if it didn't, I-I just...well, otherwise, I'm fairly certain I was gonna croak. Croak as in kick the bucket, bite the dust, buy the farm. Yup, I was fairly certain that I'd just drop dead right in front of her if all that build-up didn't lead to anything else. Seriously. And what a fucking bummer that would've been, right?

Still, the way she was looking at me gave me the idea that the likelihood of me actually ending up pushing daisies because of a terminal case of blue balls was highly unlikely. _So, okay. _I could work with that. _Right._

"Okay," I said with an awkward laugh, standing up and pulling the sheets and covers back on my side of the bed. "Right." Nodding to myself, as I stood and sized up the best position on the bed to do this thing in because―apparently, we _were _doing this thing, fuck, yes!―I sensed more than actually saw her eyes on me. When I looked over at her, it turned out that I was right. Yep, she was staring at me. "What?" I asked as she gave me an odd look.

"Nothing," she chuckled with a small shake of her head. "It's nothing."

"Bones," I sighed. "Come on. Now's not the time to be holding out on me, huh? So what is it?"

"It's just that...well, I know I should expect it given how particular you are about your appearance, but I just never took you for the meticulous type when it came to preservation of bed linens," she explained.

It took me a few seconds to translate her words of Brennanese into English before I shrugged, "I just don't―look, I just don't want to get anything on the duvet cover. It's kind of a pain in the ass to wash it, and then have to feed the down comforter back into it, you know?"

She chuckled at me again and then said, "Yes, I'm well aware of how irksome it can be to launder and rearrange a duvet cover, Booth," she stopped and the added, "You know, while I do appreciate such meticulousness on your part, you know you don't need to explain things to me if you don't want to, right? If you want...well, you can just pretend that I'm not even here, remember?"

_Well, fuck._

That was actually the _last _thing I wanted at the moment, but since she brought it up again, since it might be what _she _wanted, I nodded.

"Oh, right," I mumbled as I sat back down on the bed. I glanced over at her again and blushed a little, then propped a pillow behind me and leaned back. I lifted up my ass a little and slipped off my boxers, tossing them onto the floor near the closet door. I saw Bones's eyes swivel immediately to look at my equipment, which unfortunately wasn't much to look at, you know, at that moment, because the whole set up had been a little awkward with no real chance for me to get worked up yet besides the occasional random tug that the good ole noggin' had learned to quash a long time ago so I didn't end up walking around with one giant hard-on all day. "Uhhh, Bones?" I nodded with a grin as I reached down and peeled off my T-shirt. "Don't...don't make any snap judgements, huh?"

She flashed that fucking sexy grin of hers at me again and slowly nodded. "Of course, Booth. Of course."

"Awesome," I muttered as I saw Bones look away from my crotch as I turned and flung my balled-up T-shirt in the direction of my laundry hamper. I then tensed a bit as I heard her gasp when finally she saw my back.

_Oh, fuck_, I thought. _I sorta forgot about those._

"Booth," she said quietly, reaching her hand out to touch the scratches between my shoulder blades. "Did I―?" She raised her eyebrows but didn't finish her question.

I shrugged. "Yeah," I said. "I knew when I woke up this morning, Bones, that we must have gone a little crazy last night, because I sure as heck didn't have these when I woke up yesterday."

"That looks painful," she almost whispered, wincing as I felt her draw the soft pad of her index finger along one of the longer gouges.

"It's not that bad," I said, unable to suppress a smile at hearing the sudden shift in her tone of voice. Maybe even more than the strange request she'd just made of me, it was the gentleness in her voice and the way her fingertips traced the length of one of the scratches that seemed to close the emotional distance between us. "It looks worse than it is, I'm sure, but, uhh, if you'd like to kiss it and make it better, I wouldn't object."

She looked at me skeptically as she said, "You're telling me that it doesn't hurt at all?"

"No," I said truthfully. "I didn't say that. I just said that, well, it probably looks worse than it feels...and I'm okay. No apologies are necessary, okay, Bones? I've had much worse, believe me." I stopped and then gave her a sly grin as I tried to coax her from a concerned mood to a more appropriately playful one. "Anyway, it's kind of hot to think that, you know, whatever happened last night, you were into it enough to..._rawrrr_...like that." I waggled my eyebrows and winked, then felt a little tingle down below as I thought about what she might have looked like when I was grinding into her and she was dragging those nails of hers up and down my back. "Like, really hot. As in fucking wicked sexy, Bones," I told her as I saw the concern wavering in her bright blue eyes. "So sexy that I wouldn't mind trying to top it. And even if we don't, I think I'd still say it was worth it―if I could only remember how awesome things must have been when you did it."

"Oh," she said, with a smile. "So is this your way of saying it wasn't worth it since you can't remember it?"

"Well," I said with a crooked grin. "No, not really. I guess, well, what I'm sayin' is, I'm not sure what we did, though I can imagine, but I'm pretty sure we can do better if we try...and maybe not put anybody on the fifteen-day DL in the process, you know?"

As I felt her fingertips ghosting over the long, swollen scratches on my back, I thought about how she must have given 'em to me. Obviously, if she scratched my back like that, I wasn't laying on it, so I must've been on top, grinding into her pretty good as she dragged her nails up and down my back. I thought about her laying there beneath me, her neck arched back and her mouth hanging open as she gave a long, breathy moan and tried to reel me in even deeper. _Oh, fuck. _Or maybe I took her against the wall—or a door—ramming up and into her as I held one of her legs to give myself a better angle, and she dug those nails of hers into me as she was screaming my name. I mean, _guh!_

I arched my eyebrow at her before she tilted her head slightly and nodded in the direction of my crotch. I glanced down and saw I'd gotten half-hard thinking about the awesome sex we'd had but couldn't remember.

_Okay. Hey. There we go. Awesome. Right. _

I leaned back against the pillow, let my legs fall apart loosely and closed my eyes, then, after scratching an imaginary itch on my belly, reached down and grabbed myself. I gave myself a couple of quick tugs, but the feeling of having Bones watching me―I could literally feel her eyes drilling into me as I lay there―kind of started to unnerve me. I tried not to think about it, and focused instead on the image of me, poised between her legs, driving into her as she scraped those nails of hers over my shoulder blades, and for a few seconds, it almost seemed like that would work. I felt a familiar little tingle at the base of my spine, but as soon as I felt the sheets beneath my ass, I was reminded of where I was and what I was doing, and why, and I felt myself wilt a little in my hand.

_Fuck, _I cringed. _I must look like a goddamn idiot. What's she thinking? How is this helping her at all? Fuck me, this is embarrassing_.

After another minute, I sighed. I couldn't help it, as my curiosity got the better of me as I needed to know how she was reacting to what she'd seen so far.

"Hey, Bones," I said, cracking open one eye and looking at her.

She had that look on her face like she was studying me, which I shouldn't have been surprised at, seeing as how this whole enterprise was about her gathering data about me. But her cheeks were flushed and her mouth was hanging open a little, which was _not _something I'd ever seen her do when she was squintifying something at the lab. She was definitely starting to get engaged, but she still seemed to be hanging back a little. I knew she was gathering data, but she needed to turn off the microscope, jump in, and hop on the Booth train, because I didn't want this thing to be just sorta mildly exciting for her. I wanted her to enjoy this thing almost as much as I did. Sex—when it's done right, and I like to think I'm pretty good at making sure it's done right, anyway—is not a spectator sport. And, while I didn't really mind the idea of her watching, I didn't want to her to just sit there and watch if she wanted more. I wanted her to help. And more importantly, I think she wanted to help. So what in the hell was she waiting for?

Almost as if she'd heard me, her eye twitched when she looked up at me and answered, "Yes, Booth?"

I leaned my head back into the pillow and swallowed. _Focus, Booth. Concentrate_, a voice chimed in my head as I gave myself yet another damn pep talk. _Remember...some wicked hot aggro fucking happened in this bed less than twenty-four hours ago between you and her. Even if you can't remember it, you've got a fucking fantastic imagination, especially when it comes to your two favorite subjects...fucking and Bones. So start using it and concentrate on the fucking Bones thing._

But then again, while I was used to fantasizing about fucking Bones, I was _not_ used to fantasizing about fucking Bones when she was less than three feet away from me. I was in a unique position, I knew, and I was a goddamn idiot if I didn't seize the opportunity. I needed to get her to stop thinking of me as some kind of science experiment and get her in the game. If she got in the game, then she'd definitely get turned on, and the chances that a cause of death would be listed on my death certificate as 'subject expired from a terminal case of blue balls' went down dramatically. So I needed to get her in on the action. The question, as ever, was how do I do that without freaking her...or me...out?

After a moment, an idea came to me. I swallowed a large sense of satisfaction I felt at the brilliance of the idea I'd just had, and instead concentrated on appealing to her sense of fair play. "Ummm, Bones?" I asked. "Do you, uhh...mind...if, uhh..." My voice trailed off as I felt a nervous flutter in my belly. "I, umm...it's...well, it feels kind of weird to just have you, uh...you know...watching me." I turned my head and looked at her. "Do you, umm...think that...you know, you could talk to me?"

"What would you like for me to talk to you about?" she asked, staring at me intently.

_Really, Bones? _I rolled my eyes, and pressed my head hard into the pillow. _Fucking A, why is everything always the hard way with you? _"Historical changes in wheat production in eastern Russia," I quipped before I rolled my eyes at her. Then, gesturing my head in the vague direction of my crotch, I said, "Oh, come on, Bones...you know..."

* * *

><p>I had to swallow a small laugh. I really did. And, for some reason, I knew if I laughed, it would just make things more uncomfortable than they appeared to be, so I had to swallow the laugh and try to keep a straight face as he looked at me. It wasn't any easy thing to do, by the way.<p>

He was uncomfortable for some reason―that much was obviously clear. And, then, as I looked at him while he adjusted himself on the bed―if was almost as if he was fidgeting―and that's when I realized it. He had the same body language we did right before we would go into Sweets' office for a session. He was anxious―note, I don't say the word 'nervous'...because Booth would clearly argue that nothing about Sweets could ever make him 'nervous'―and he was there only because he was being compelled to be there. It's not something that he really wanted to do. And, he had that look on his face now. The same exact one. Ergo...

_Does he not want to do this? Is that it?_

But, then―why would he ask me to talk to him if he wasn't serious about it?

Well...he obviously wasn't in the right frame of mind for this. I could see that much quite clearly. Then again, that point also is hardly surprising, really. When w'd just spent a fair amount of time talking about feelings and emotions and things of that complex nature, so it wasn't realistically going to be easy for either one of us to switch mindsets and suddenly be ready to be in a sexual frame of mind. I mean, yes, men can do that easier than women can, and I was certainly ready to transition to that sexual mindset. But, maybe I was being too hard on Booth. Was it too much to expect him to be able to do this by himself? Maybe he needed some assistance to make the transition. Because, if he did, then that would certainly explain why he wanted me to talk to him even after I told him he could just pretend I wasn't even here if that would make him more comfortable.

_Okay. _If I could help him achieve the proper frame of mind by providing some auditory stimulation, I supposed that's something I could do easily enough.

Swallowing once, I nodded and slowed my diction and lowered my voice a bit as I asked quietly, "Would hearing my voice help put you in a more sensual frame of mind?"

He lifted his head towards me, and from the interested glint I saw in his warm brown irises, I could already tell that I had his _complete _attention. Slowly he nodded as he responded with a small smile, "Uhhh, yeah, it would, Bones. Definitely..."

"Alright, " I told him with a short nod. "I can do that if you're certain that would help you. I can definitely talk. Since you're always saying I'm so good at talking, that one's easy, right?"

"Uhhh, yeah," he responded again. "I mean, I, uhhh..well, you're usually wanting to get the first word in edgewise and you pretty much always get the last word, I, uhhh...you know, figure you might be able to, uhh, you know, umm...help a guy out a little?"

Smiling at him―this time I wasn't able to suppress the smile―I chuckled lightly as I said, "You'r very...appealing when you're flummoxed, Booth. Although I don't like the word applied to females of a certain age because it belies an inappropriate connotation, I believe the correct adjective here might even be...cute. You're very cute right now."

"Cute, huh?" he blinked at me with an awkward grin. "Just cute?"

"No," I said with a shake of my head. "Not just cute. Attractive. Very, _very _attractive. But, surely you know that already?"

He blushed and was silent for a few seconds, shifting his hips against the sheets and raising his dark eyebrows which made his broad forehead crinkle into that very expression of endearing bewilderment that I'd been speaking of as he said, "It, uhhh, might help if you told me again."

I chuckled again. "I think you're very, very attractive, Booth―both physically and emotionally and intellectually...and it's all very, _very _sexy to me. You're incredibly sexy to me."

"Really?" he asked again, his closed-mouthed smile widening at the compliment.

"Yes," I nodded, feeling my heart rate increase slightly as he looked at me so intently. "God, yes. I've thought you were one of the sexiest men I've ever been attracted to, and most definitely the one that's had the greatest effect on me. Because, you do know that, don't you, Booth? I-I, that is...the attraction I feel for you...how I feel about you―and what I have to do sometimes because of how you make me feel...it's only you who's ever done that to me, Booth. Only ever you. Don't you know that?"

"Uhhh," he gave me a rather adorable lopsided grin as he cocked an eyebrow at me and said, "I don't know, Bones. Maybe you, uhhh, should tell me that again. And...in more detail, huh? What do I do to you exactly?"

_Hmmm._ Well, that was interesting. Unless I was very much mistaken, it seemed that Booth had just asked me to tell him explicit sexual things. _Hmmmm...now, what to do about that? _

_Hmmmm..._

* * *

><p>Bones got quiet for a minute, and during that minute, I was almost sorry that I'd asked her to talk to me about that stuff. But, then she tilted her head and looked at me with a strange smile as she spoke. "Unless I'm very much mistaken, I think you just asked me to...how is it most appropriate to say it in this context?" She paused and then chuckled, "Did you just ask me to talk dirty to you, Booth?" she asked.<p>

_Uhh, duh. Fuck yes._

I shrugged a little and nodded.

"Then...I can assume that if I did that it would it help you to achieve the proper mindset?" she tilted her head at me in a playfully seductive way that made my throat grow dry. _Was she actually gonna do it? _"That is...if I did that...would you like that?" she asked me. "If I talked dirty to you, Booth, would it help to bring you pleasure?"

I felt my heart speed up at her questions. _Pleasure_. Oh, yeah. Oh, God, yeah. So much fucking pleasure and then some. _Fuck, yes!_

"Yes," I rasped, with a small shake of my head. "Yeah, please. It would. It _definitely_ would."

She studied me for another minute, but this time it was a completely different look from the critical one that had made me go soft just a few minutes before. "Okay," she said. She then pursed her lips for a minute, her pale pink lips becoming thin as she hesitated for a few brief seconds before she asked in a softer voice, "I-I can...that is, if you want it, also...I can―would it help...would you like it if I...if I touched you?"

At the very mention of her touching me, I squeezed my eyes shut as I felt my breaths grow a bit more ragged and felt my balls tighten a little as my dick got a bit harder while I held it in my hand. "Yeah," I said. "Oh, God, yeah. That'd be awesome, Bones."

Then, a horribly brutal fucking thought occurred to me when that part of my brain that I wanted to frag―the part that I thought I'd already clobbered senseless for its random snark of rationality about a half-hour back―decided to remind me that she's originally asked me to jerk off by myself so that she could watch. Mentally cursing that horrible fucking part of my brain that I was gonna look into getting eradicated if it didn't cause any permanent brain damage―since I'd already lost one useless melon-scooped ball of the Boothy brain matter without too much of a cost, how bad could it be to lose a little more if I could get rid of an actually totally useless and fucking annoying part―I realized I needed to ask her since I was doing this _for her_. I was venturing into uncharted waters here, and I wanted to make sure I was playing by the rules. Especially because I wasn't sure what the rules were.

"But, uhh, Bones?" I asked. Blinking at her, I sighed as she gave me a quizzical look causing me to ask, "As awesome as that would be, is that―well, I mean, is that okay? Because know you said that you wanted to watch me..ummmm...you know, get _myself _off. But, if you, uhhhh, touched me, I'm not really sure how―" I squeezed my eyes shut for a minute, fighting a wave of renewed embarrassment I felt at my ramble as I let my words trail off as I left my sentence unfinished. After another few seconds of self indulgence, I took a deep breath, opened my eyes again, and turned my head to face her.

_Come on_, _Bones, _I begged her. _Save me from myself. Tell me that I'm being stupid and silly and of course it doesn't matter to you if you touch me as long as you can see me come. _I gave her a little bit of the Boothy puppy dog eyes as I silently pleaded with her to touch me. It's what I had wanted since the moment we'd woke up together, more than anything―even more than sex―was to just feel her touch me. _Please touch me...please just touch me...oh, God...please..._

Almost as if she heard me, Bones smiled―that delicious, wicked sexy half-grin that I'd been fantasizing about since the first time I saw it, sitting next to her at my old pool bar when she leaned over and said to me, '_If we don't work together anymore, we can have sex'_―and laughed softly.

"Booth," she said, "I told you. I want to help you, to bring you pleasure in this as much as it's a self-serving exercise in me obtaining the information that I feel I need to have about you. So, if you want me to touch you, I can do that..."

_Thank the fucking Lord_―

"Within reason, that is―" she continued.

_Shit. The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away._

"I mean, I don't want this to break down into me giving you a handjob or anything too sexual between us, okay? I'm not...that is, we're not quite ready for that," she told me.

_Says who? _I blinked at her, hoping starting to renew in my chest. _Please say you'll touch me. I don't care how little or how much. Just touch me. Please. Just fucking touch me, and then I can die a happy man._

"And, I know that sounds funny given what happened last night, and what I'm asking you to do right now, but together...we just need to focus on the here and now, okay?" she told me. "So, maybe I was a little unclear earlier, but it's not as important to me how you get there as it is to see what happens when you do, if that makes any sense."

_It does. It makes perfect fucking sense. Run with it, baby. For the love of God, please fucking run with that._

"Thus, if me talking to you provocatively and touching you a little―not on your penis or any significant erogenous zone, but elsewhere―would help, then I'll gladly do that," she said before she stopped and then added, "Of course, it wouldn't just be me helping you. I think I'd...I think it would bring me a measure of pleasure as well."

_Fuck, yes!_

My mouth went even drier at her words as she looked to me for confirmation, I nodded once, and then closed my eyes as I felt her fingers, those delicate, slender little fingers of hers, reach out and touch the side of my thigh.

_Oh, Jesus, _I mentally croaked as I felt her fingertips skim along the top of my thigh, just barely touching the hair. It tickled a little, but it was felt strangely intimate and, for reasons I'm not sure I really understand and hadn't actually expected, curiously erotic. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that, the minute I felt her fingers touch me, I curled my own fingers more tightly around my dick and began to really stroke myself. _Finally,_ I thought. _Fuck saints' lists. It's okay to get hard when she's touching me. Awesome. _I wasn't quite all the way hard, but hard enough that, once I really had fisted myself, I could feel the skin get dragged back and forth over my shaft, and that, together with the way those fingers of hers were ghosting over my thigh, got me even harder.

"Talk to me, Bones," I whispered as I sucked in a long breath between my teeth. "I need to hear your voice. So, talk. I don't care what you say. Just talk. Please..."

She fanned her whole hand over my thigh, and I could feel the warmth of her palm against my skin. "God, you're sexy," she told me in a throaty drawl that it was almost a purr. "So...damn...sexy. But, I have something else tell you, Booth.. Something that I almost need to confess, really," she said.

"What?" I coughed. For just about a half-second, I had this image in my mind of Bones kneeling in the confessional, spilling it about all the naughty things she'd thought about and done in the privacy of her bedroom, but before that train of thought got very far out of the station, she started talking again.

"I've been thinking about you...about you and...well, I suppose I should be completely honest here and not use some random clinical term, but tell you what and how I think of you when I'm alone and thinking to myself. I know you...well, we've never used the explicit terminology."

_What? Don't let that stop you, baby. _

"But, I've thought of you and your...cock...that cock of yours for a long time," she said, her already-husky voice dropping another half-octave as the words fell from her mouth.

_Oh, Jesus._

"A long time, actually. But, I always, _always _think about it whenever you wear your Cocky belt buckle, and that's always made me think about why you wear it and who it was really intended for―for other people...or me...just for me?"

_Ohhh, fuck. _"What do you think?" I hissed, wincing as I began to stroke myself even faster at the thought of her thinking about my dick. _What was she doing all those times she was thinking about my dick?_

"Right," she laughed. "Although I can't be certain, I'm pretty sure it was intended for me, Booth. Wasn't it, Booth? Weren't you trying to tell me something? Because, if you were, it was alright, of course...even if it _was _a bit mean of you. Because, it certainly didn't make it any easier for me to _not _think about that cock of yours, every damn time I saw that belt buckle of yours, no matter where we were―crime scene, the lab, the Hoover, the diner. Everywhere, all the time, those thoughts were never far from my head. And, I was always fantasizing about being able to see it...itching to touch it. And, you know what Booth, I have to say now that I can finally see it up close like this, it's so much better than I'd ever imagined it to be. Even after I walked on you in the bathtub that one time, seeing it like this...well, it's even better when it's erect and close enough to touch."

She made a humming sound in her throat which made my balls hitch just a little bit more. _So fucking good. _

"It's very erotic...very arousing, Booth. And, just in case you were wondering, I've thought about your cock a number of times over the last few _weeks_." Suddenly, her voice grew closer as I felt the bed shift next to me, and I knew she'd changed positions, and was laying next to me, her mouth near my ear. "And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't touching myself most of the times I was thinking about that cock of yours."

_Oh my God._

She paused, and even though I didn't open my eyes, I could tell she was licking her lips because I could hear the barely audible parting of her lips and the smacking of her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

I didn't want to distract myself from the holy trinity of erotic sensations―her hand slowly stroking my thigh, her velvety voice talking about her touching herself (_guh!_) and my own hand jerking up and down over my almost painfully-hard dick―to open my eyes, but the very nearness of her made it that much hotter as she started speaking again. It was almost like I could feel her voice, that deliciously husky voice of hers, vibrating through me as she spoke.

"Yes," she said, her words falling as soft, warm puffs of air against my ear. "I have to admit that my fantasies about you are such that I'd really consider those scenarios as falling into three basic categories..."

_My fantasies about you..._

_Fantasies. _

As in plural.

As in, she had enough fantasies about me that she could actually organize them into categories.

_Oh, sweet Jesus. _

I sucked another breath through my teeth as my balls hitched at the thought of it, and I felt myself begin to spend, so I slowed down my strokes a little, opening my grip a bit so that I kind of held my dick loosely in the curve of my fingers, not because I didn't want to get off―because I really, really fucking did―but because I didn't want to come before she'd had a chance to tell me about those three categories of bountiful Boothy fantasies.

"I don't suppose that those would be of any interest to you, right?" she asked me, a teasing edge present in her voice that made it clear to me that she was gonna drive me absolutely fucking crazy before all of this was said and done. "I mean, surely, you wouldn't want to hear about any of them, right, Booth?"

"Fuck, _yeeeessss_," I growled, quite sure in that moment that I was probably reduced to caveman-like grunts and growls as I felt myself rumbling like a steadily-moving freight train towards what I was pretty sure was gonna be a really epic, mind-ripping orgasm. "I wanna know."

Later, I'd be pretty pleased with myself for coming up with that much of a coherent answer given how fucking close I was to flying apart at the seams. Plus, my brain still seemed to have been stuck and looping on that one little humditty that Bones had so casually tossed my way idea―that she had a large enough multitude of fantasies about me that, in her uniquely squinty way, she had 'em organized into categories.

_For fucking real?_

My eyes jerked up to meet hers with the unspoken question. Once more, it appeared no words were necessary between us.

Still, because Bones is all about overkill, she laughed at me. "So, you want to know about my fantasies about you, Booth. Would you, really?" she asked, her voice bright with a smile, and I could tell just from the way she spoke that she had that sexy half-grin again as I furiously nodded my head at her so there couldn't be any doubt as to what I wanted from her since she'd practically rendered me by that point unable to form a single damn word.

_And_, a sly voice echoed in my head. _If she was good enough to do that when she's barely even touched you, imagine what she's gonna be capable of doing by the time everything is said and done_.

I was so fucked by that point―in a good way, though―that I didn't really care.

_Fuck me, baby. Fuck me._

I was suddenly distracted from my inner chant of channeling pleas for Bonesy sexiness when I realized they must've worked faster than I'd expected since she was leaning in and pressing her lips to my ear.

"So," she said, her hot breath tickling the tiny hairs inside my ears. "If you really want to know―and I think you do by the fact that I can see you've started to get hard in your hand there, so I don't think that's a mere coincidence―"

_Understatement of the fucking year, baby._

"Well," she continued. "The first group...that is, well...they don't really have any commonality about where we are, but are sort of tied together by what happens. In them, something happens―what happens isn't the important part―but what is crucial is that somehow we end up either slammed against some flat surface, like a door or a wall or rolling around on the bed..." She laughed. "And, all of a sudden, we both start ripping each other's clothes off." I felt her smile as her mouth twitched against my earlobe. "In case you're wondering Booth, I've always wanted to rip the goddamn buttons off of one of your button downs, so that's probably why that happened last night," she told me with a thoughtful edge in her voice. "I've wanted to rip the goddamn shirt off your entire body and strip you naked from almost the first day we met. And, I wanted to do it just as you're coming at me hard and fast and then you start pulling and tugging at my bra and panties so that there's nothing but the sound of our grunts and groans and the ripping of clothing―"

_Hard and fast and ripping her panties? _

I thought about those little white string bikinis she was wearing right then, and I suddenly had an overwhelming urge to roll her over and rip the damn things right off of her epically hot body. Because, if she wanted me to come at her hard and fast and start ripping her panties, that was _definitely _something I could do. Damn...not only _could _I do it. I _wanted _to do it. I wanted to do it so fucking badly that I squeezed my eyes shut and pictured it in my mind.

I groaned, closing my fingers tightly around my dick once more, but slowing my hand down so each stroke was like a porch swing, pulling up and then down again in a long, slow arc as the skin on my dick, which was a lot tighter than it was before when I wasn't completely hard, slid up and down.

"Ohhhhh..." I rolled my head from one side to the other and felt her lips touch my earlobe as I heard her chuckle at my responses. "_Fuuucck."_

I guess she was pleased with the response she was getting from me because she kept talking. "And, then you press into me," she continued. "And, you're pumping into me so hard and so fast that we barely have time to realize that either one of us is about to come because we've gone so hard and fast while we fucked. You don't even get to the point where you touch my clit, or I touch your balls, but you just keep thrusting into me causing my ass to slam hard against whatever we're using to balance against while we're fucking. You fill me up each time, and because I'm so wet, you can slide in so quickly the next time. It's hard and fast and...well, almost angry. But, it feels good, Booth. It feels _so _damn good by the time I see that handsome face of yours contort because you're about to come."

_Oh, shit. _

I wanted to do that. I did. I _really _did. I wanted to do that _so _fucking badly.

To touch her, to feel her, to take her...I wanted to smell her and taste her and to make her come like she'd never come before. I knew, I just knew, that she'd feel so fucking good. Mind-blowingly good. And the taste. I knew...she was gotta taste so fucking good...like the sweetest, tangiest cream ever made. God, I wanted to taste her, and when I was done worshipping her pussy, she'd come like crazy against my mouth, her whole body quaking as she shattered. I kneaded the inside of my lip between my teeth just to keep from coming right then at the thought of it.

"What else?" I asked, my voice low and rough, somewhere between a rasp and a growl.

Her tongue darted out and nibbled the bottom of my earlobe as I let out a long, breathy sigh at the sensation of it. "Sometimes," she said, "Well, honestly...the second group of fantasies I have are all about seduction, Booth. I'll think about that wonderful cock of yours―which of course, I've seen flaccid and knew was well-proportioned―and I'd use that bit of data to imagine what it would look like erect, and I'd think about how it would feel in my hands or in mouth―"

_How it would feel in her mouth? _

I let out a loud grunt, gritting my teeth as I felt my balls tighten as if she were squeezing them in the palm of her hand, but I held myself back, though I desperately wanted to come, especially thinking about those thin lips of hers sliding back and forth as my dick disappeared into her mouth.

"I'm...I-I..._ohhhh_...fuck..." I bit my lip hard between my teeth. She was either gonna kill me or make me come harder than I'd ever come before in my own hand. "What...else?" I asked her in a voice that was practically me pleading with her to keep going.

She laughed that low, sexy laugh of hers and said in that dry, husky voice of hers that nearly unwound me just at the sound of it, "Do you really want to know, Booth?"

_Are you fucking kidding me, Bones? Don't stop. Please, fucking God, don't stop._

"God, yes," I muttered, amazed that I could manage even those two syllables, hovering as close as I was to the edge of losing control completely. I winced as my balls still ached, and I turned my head towards her, opening my eyes as I suddenly, miraculously remembered that she wanted to see what they looked like when I came. "Fuck, Bones...please... _tell me_," I grunted, unsure in that moment whether I was begging or ordering her to continue.

"Well," she continued, "the third group of fantasies involved you catching me unaware somehow. Like, you'd accost me at the airport and have Homeland Security hold me for questioning in one of those little rooms where they hold people for suspicious behavior. You'd walk inside wearing one of your completely fuckable dark suits―usually it'd be your dark charcoal one or your black pinstripe. Sometimes you'd have on a vest, and sometimes you'd just be wearing suspenders." She paused as she considered what was obviously something about me that got the good ole Bonesy juices flowing.

_Heh_.

If I'd known that little gem before, I'd have been suspenders every damn day. Well, maybe every other day, alternating with that Cocky belt buckle which I now knew she really liked.

"God, how fucking sexy you are in suspenders," she confided in me. "I-I...I get wet sometimes just looking at you after you'd gotten your hair cut and dressed in a suit like that, imagining what it'd be like to see you get a shave with a straight edge razor. But, you know what? In my fantasy, when you walk into whatever room I'm in, being all cocky as hell, it's clear you're ready to read me my rights. But, instead of mirandizing me...well, you just grab me and bend me over the table, yank my skirt up, shove my panties to the side and then start pounding into me from me from behind―"

She paused again, obviously caught up in what she was sharing with me, maybe even as much as I was. _Fuck, yes!_

After a few really long seconds, she drew another silky breath through those gorgeous fucking pink lips of hers and said, "You know, Booth...I can't help but imagine what it would feel like for the first time―the first time when you were inside me," she said. "And, I think that's why I'm so pissed off that I can't remember last night, you know? I've dreamed and I've fantasized about it so many times...I just...and it happened and I can't remember how it finally felt when you'd stretch me out on the inside with your magnificent, hard cock. And, God...I've imagined the wonderful pressure I'd feel as your hips ground into mine, the way you'd look down at me as you pistoned into me with abandon, and..." She paused, leaning in close to me and brushing her lips back and forth along the edge where my jaw, neck and ear came together. I let out a long breath and felt her soft, silky hair tickle my nose. "And the way it would feel when you came inside of me for the first time, your hot come spilling into me and filling me up."

_When I came inside of her for the first time._

Okay.

Yep, that did it.

There it was.

That's when I finally lost it.

"_Unnnnngthhh!" _I grunted as I exploded in my hand, my eyes locked with her beautiful blues as I felt my come spurt onto my belly. I milked myself with a couple of last jerks before I let my hand fall away and my head lolled to the side one last time. "Oh, Jesus," I whispered. "Oh, my God, Bones."

"Mmmmm," she murmured, kissing my shoulder as she leaned in, stroking her index finger along the edge of my hip and onto my belly. "Ohhh, Booth," she drawled in that fucking sexy as hell, throaty purr of hers even as I felt her swipe her finger along my sweat-dampened skin, gathering up a bit of my come before bringing her finger to her lips. "Hmmm...that was...oh, God." She paused, lifting her eyes to mine before she smiled and said, "You have no idea how wonderful that was...but, now. Right now? I think I'm done sitting on the sidelines―"

_Thank you, Jesus!_

"I-I...I need to touch you...and taste you, Booth," she told me. She then stopped and slowly wrapped her lips around her finger and pulled it into her wet mouth. Swallowing once, she lifted her heavy-lidded eyes to mine and smiled one of the most fucking sexy smiles I've ever seen her smile before she said, "Wow, Booth. that's...you're...you taste so damn good. So damn good―better than I had imagined."

_Oh, my God._

She shifted her position before leaning over again and bringing her mouth to my abdomen. Her nose brushed against my navel as I felt her warm, wet tongue slide over my skin and begin to lap up the gooey come that had splashed on my stomach when I came.

"Mmmm," she hummed as it looked like she was rolling my come around inside her mouth, savoring it like it was some kind of decadent dessert, which I suppose in a sense it was. "Much, _much _better than I'd ever have imagined. You taste fucking fantastic, Booth." Reclining the way I was, I watched her as she licked up every bit of come that had fallen on the smooth skin of my belly. I narrowed my eyes as I sucked in a breath, sliding my hand around to keep her from touching my dick, which after all of that was painfully sensitive. She turned her head and met my glance with a twinkle in her eyes. "So...was that any good, Booth?" she said with a smirk as she pressed a soft kiss against my hip. "Did you enjoy that?" she asked. "Because I certainly did."

"Oh, my God, Bones," I said after a few moments, finally able to speak. I smacked my dry lips once before I sighed, "Yeah. That was...I did. I did enjoy it." Shaking my head, I was still struggling to make sense of what had just happened when I told her, "I-I, uhhhh...I don't think I've ever come as hard as I just did, Bones. I mean...holy fucking shit. That was―well, damn. Just...goddamn." I leaned my head back and sighed. After a minute, another thought occurred to me and caused me to gulp some air before I asked her, "So did you gather the info that you needed there?"

"Yes," she said, her laugh vibrating against my side as she rested her cheek on my belly as she nodded at me. "Oh, yes. I did. I most certainly did. That is, I did get most of what I needed...most of it...and a bit more." She paused for a beat before she then amended her statement, "Not all though...not everything. I don't have everything I need quite yet, Booth."

_I just bet you don't._

"Huh," I grunted, bringing my hand around to gently caress her hair. Is that so?"

Although I wouldn't have thought a few minutes earlier that I'd feel this way, I was at that point really glad that I went first, because thinking of sitting there watching her get herself off, I think I'd definitely would've given up the ghost to that terminal case of blue balls I was suffering from before. But, having gotten myself off, I realized that I'd just bought myself enough time to really enjoy watching her, well, enjoy herself.

The thought was so fucking sexy, I could hardly stand it anymore. That's why I looked at her with a playful grin as I asked, "So, what else do you need, Bones? And, more importantly... what do you think you want to do about it?"

* * *

><p>It was a surreal experience to say the least.<p>

At first, when I thought of the idea of watching Booth touch himself, I thought that I was going to have to come up with a lot of reasons to justify why I wanted to see him do it. I desperately wanted...almost craved, really, the opportunity to see him vulnerable and out of control and to know that he felt that way because of _me_. I wanted to revel in what it felt like to know that he was doing things to himself because of how I'd made him feel...how he felt about me, because of me...and that he trusted me enough to let me see him do it.

_Only because of me._

If I had to, I'd been prepared...eventually...to tell him all these very intimate things...if I had to.

But, then, he just seemed to be so rather...open to the idea. I never really had to fall back on the more...personal reasons why I wanted to see him touch himself. He actually seemed somewhat satisfied with my explanation about needing to replace the information I'd lost because I couldn't remember what happened last night when we had sex.

Honestly, I think that surprises me most...he trusted me and wanted to please me so much that he'd do something like this―something that I know he felt uncomfortable with at the start―and he did it without me having to really persuade him all that much. Oh, wow...and...heh.

_Wow_.

_And...and...wow._

When it finally happened? Well, damn. Just...damn.

It was so good. So much more than I'd ever thought it could be. And...more importantly, I was definitely of a mind to make good on the reciprocal clause in our agreement. And, uhhhh...I can't lie, as I've said before―watching him touch himself like that...it was...I'm not really certain how to describe it. It was an incredibly intimate...and arousing situation. And, I did agree, after all, if it would bring him pleasure to reciprocate. Because, the key to a good and strong and lasting partnership is equity in everything, right? Reciprocity?

_Heh_.

_Who was I kidding?_

I was turned on. I'd barely even touched him, but by talking to him about those fantasies...about the things I'd never verbalized to anyone before in my entire life...not even Angela...Well, I was trying to share with him something as private and as personal as he'd shared with me. I don't know if he knows that. In a way, the sharing of those innermost thoughts that I have are even more personal than letting him watch me touch myself.

But, now...with him looking at me like that...half-expectation, half-want...because, there was no mistaking the want in his eyes as he reached out and brushed an errant strand of hair away from me―he wanted me. Well, I could give him that. I could give him what he wanted...watching me or all of me―some or both or whatever he wanted, as long as I was involved. All he had to do was tell me...and I guess, since he had to know that I was so aroused―

_Fuck, no. _

After what had just happened, after what I'd just seen him do to himself, it went _way _beyond mere arousal here. It went far, _far _beyond that. I _was _horny. The incredibly, insatiably, crazy and insanely aroused type of horny where I knew I wasn't going to last much longer before I'd been reduced to the capability to grunt and groan...if I was lucky.

More than that. I think...I was beginning to get an idea of what frame of mind he must've been able to conjure me into that night to the point that I scratched the hell out of his back like I did. Because, I'm not lying...I wanted to go at him. No more waiting. No more delays. Right then and there. I wanted him.

But, if he wanted to watch me touch myself to start? Well, okay. Like I'd told him earlier...that's something I thought I could do. Yes, I definitely thought I could do that.

Licking my lips, I took a deep breath as I looked up at him and said, "What I want to do, Booth, is do whatever it would that would bring you some pleasure, I think."

"Hmmmm?" came the gravelly response, his interest clear as he looked at me through a gaze that was still heavy lidded.

"I said," I told him with a slightly evil smile as I reached for the hem of his blue Phillies t-shirt that I had put on after the back massage that he'd given me. "That I think I want to bring you pleasure since you let me enjoy things when I watched you touching yourself. So...now, you want to watch me touching myself, right?"

For a moment, he didn't say anything as he was somehow transfixed by the sight of my fingers on the hem of his loaned T-shirt. Suddenly, though, he snapped out of his daze and looked up at me. "Yeah," he said in a low voice. "I-I, uhh...yeah...I'd...umm..." His stammer faded out, and a smile broke across his face. "I wanna see you come, Bones. I wanna see how you touch yourself...how you like to be touched...how you make yourself come. I wanna see what you look like when you fall to pieces."

I couldn't help but look up and tilt my head as I looked at him. My smile softened as I saw the want and desire in his eyes and nodded.

"Okay, if you want that...I think I can do that fairly easily, Booth," I told him. I surveyed the bed and then nodded at him. "Move over a bit. I usually when I do this I have my whole bed to work with...I'm not quite used to sharing yet."

Booth gave me a particularly toothy grin as he rolled over onto his side, laying on the far edge of the bed and propped up with one elbow supporting his head as he relinquished both the pillow and space in the bed where he'd been laying earlier. "Ya know, Bones, I think this may just be an excuse for you to take all my pillows again."

The place on the bed where he'd been laying was still warm from his body heat. It also smelled incredible—like Booth and sex...two of my favorite scents, especially when they were combined together. I smiled at him as I fluffed and adjusted the pillows again so that they provided an adequate bolster for my back—which was still a bit tender from our previous night's exertions, but there wasn't any reason to let Booth know that since I didn't want to needlessly worry him about me. I knew that if he was worried I felt discomfort in any way whatsoever, he wouldn't be able to derive any pleasure from what I was about to share with him, and I wanted that for him. As I shifted slightly so that I was laying propped up on the pillows, I turned my head as I faced him and then said, "I do like to sleep with a lot of pillows, but in this particular situation, it's both a preference and a practical necessity."

"Oh yeah?" he grinned was an arched eyebrow.

"Yes," I nodded. "As you're about to see if you give me a few moments."

Booth didn't seem to have any particular answer for _that _statement...especially when I reached for the hem of the Phillies t-shirt again, but this time I didn't stop as I pulled the shirt up over my head and tossed it on the floor.

* * *

><p>The second I saw her pull my Phillies shirt over her head and reveal those absolutely delicious breasts of hers, my brain froze.<p>

All I could see—and all I could think about—for about thirty seconds, was those abso-fucking-lutely incredible tits of hers. I mean, sure, I'd been ogling those babies for years, since the day I met her, and I'd spent quite a lot of shower time thinking about what they'd look like, how they'd lay on her chest without a bra, the way they'd move when she rolled over in bed or when she was on top of me, and how they'd feel in my hands. My mouth began to water when I saw those dusky, pebbled nipples perked up the way they were, nice and tight and erect, and it was everything I could do not to reach over and grab them because they were _perfect_—as in Sistine Chapel-like, Michelangelo and Da Vinci Renaissance masterpiece fucking perfect—and the only thing that kept me from doing that very thing was the fact that my brain was stuck in neutral after the mind-ripping orgasm I'd just had.

I came so hard, listening to Bones tell me about how she'd been fantasizing about me (_me!_), that I could've sworn some of my brain matter must have gushed out with my come, because it took a couple of minutes for me to even see straight, never mind think straight. And, though I'd already lost it by that point, having Bones lick my come off my stomach was the hottest thing that had ever happened to me―or, at least the hottest thing that I could remember ever having happened to me. I'm pretty sure, after the way she had talked about the fantasies she'd had about me, never mind the way she scratched me up (_rawrr), _that whatever happened last night must have been absolutely mind-shattering. Which means that whatever happens after this―because there's no doubt in my goddamn mind that, after the way she'd made me come just talking to me like that, and with it seeming like she was gonna let me watch her get herself off in just a little bit (which I couldn't even say how much I was looking forward to _that _prospect—_holy shit!_), something was _definitely _gonna happen here, and it was gonna be amazing...hot as all fuck...mind-ripping...a once-in-a-lifetime type thing. I was sure of it. And I could barely contain myself thinking about it.

But I also knew that I'd need a little while to pull myself together before I was going to be ready to rock and roll, and hell, what better way to spend the time than watching the most beautiful, sexiest woman I'd ever met touch herself?

I wanted to know how she touches herself, to see what kind of thing she does to get herself off. Would she focus on her clit? Or would she put her fingers inside herself? Would she touch her tits, those amazing, fucking awesome tits of hers that I've been ogling since―_awww, hell, you know_―the very _first _second that I ever saw her? Would she make any noises? If she did, what kind would she make? Would she scream? Would she moan? Would she bite her lip to keep from crying out? Would she call out my name? Would she want me to talk to her the way I had her talk to me? Or would she want me to touch her? Would she get off on the idea of me watching her, or would she be like I was at first, a little weirded out by the very idea of me watching her?

Something told me that nothing weirds Bones out when it comes to sex. But what do I know? I'm just the dumb cop from South Philly. She's the genius...

…

Then, again, I _am _somewhat of a genius when it comes to Bones. So maybe I do I know more than I thought I did. In either case, here was my chance to find out the answers to all my questions and _more._

Fuck. This was...how fucking lucky was I..and not just because it was still looking pretty good that I was gonna get laid again?

She...us...we. This...It was a gift. A fucking gift, wrapped up and set under the Christmas tree with my name on it, and I really don't think I'm gonna be able wait another goddamn second to open it up.

_Ohhh. _

_Heh_.

_Yeah_.

Fuck opening the gift. I didn't want to open up any gift...unless it was her. I wanted to open _her _up. Yeah. Oh, damn...I knew I needed a little bit of time here, but I don't know...I wanted touch her so bad, it was nearly driving me out of my mind just thinking about it.

* * *

><p>I hadn't even really started to touch myself yet, and he already looked like he was really, really close to being ready for another go.<p>

_Hmmm_...

I have to admit _that _little bit surprised me. I mean, as much as I adore Booth, the simple fact of the matter is that he isn't a sixteen year-old boy who's just discovered sex. I mean, yes, the sexual aspect of things between us was new, but biology is biology. He still needed some time to recover. But, the way he was staring at me—almost as if he'd never seen a pair of tits before―was both rather flattering, but also more than just a bit...distracting. I don't know how he expected me to be able to do this if I was too busy concentrating on trying to figure out what _he _was doing...what _he _was thinking and feeling and wanting.

But, I still like to think that I'm a bit more able to compartmentalize successfully than he can, and quite frankly that's one very highly useful skill that I've always possessed that he doesn't. But, I digress so I don't get too distracted here and go off on a tangent as I was sometimes apt to do.

Anyway, I briefly thought about asking him if he wanted to help me. I mean, I _did _help him...so, it seemed that what was good for him was good for me, right? Plus, I think I'd really enjoy it. I mean, it's not like I wasn't already aroused and my panties weren't just wet by pure coincidence. He's so incredibly fucking sexy. It doesn't matter whether he's got the adorable, clueless and confused look on his face or whether he's got the hungry look of want on his face. Every single face he has can turn me on—even if I haven't told _him _that point, it's still true.

And, again, the way he was looking at me just then...if I could just stop thinking about what it meant and could just focus on how it made me feel, it would definitely help expedite the process of getting me into a rhythm enough so that I could come and let Booth watch me do it.

So, maybe it _was _a good idea to ask him for some help.

My decision made, I extended my legs straight, and then I gave him what I hoped was a rather sultry/tempting look as I asked, "Booth?"

"Uhh, yeah, Bones?" came the grunt in response.

"I need your help," I told him. "Can you...or, maybe, I'm not even sure if you want to, but can you help me take my panties off?"

I tilted my head as I watched him process the meaning of my words and then couldn't help but smile at the dumbstruck and goofy grin that he had on his face.

_Damn, he's so fucking sexy. Just...damn._

* * *

><p>"<em>Can you help me take my panties off?"<em>

Okay, so I've accumulated a lot of Bones sexual fantasies over the years. A lot. I mean, _a lot. _And in those delicious little fantasies, I've imagined her saying a lot of different things to me. But that one—_"Can you help me take my panties off?"_—that was not one of them.

Like I said, Bones never ceases to surprise me.

About three-tenths of a second after she said it, my brain processed what she'd said. About six-tenths of a second after she said it, my heart started beating again, and somewhere around the one-second mark, I think I started to breathe again. Which is good, you know, because it'd be a real fucking bummer if I end up suffocating myself two seconds before getting to peel my sexy-as-all-fuck partner's panties off her rockin' hot ass.

"Uh, yeah," I said with what I hoped was a smooth nod, even though I knew it probably wasn't. "Sure."

_This better not be a dream, _I thought. _Or I'll be fucking __pissed__. I mean, seriously. Really. Fucking. Pissed._

It took another second or two for my brain to stop talking and for me to get those fingers of mine walking. I leaned over a little and, pausing for a moment to stroke my index finger along the curve of her hip, which, I noticed with a bit of satisfaction, made her shiver slightly, I hooked my fingers around the waistband of those cute little cotton panties and then gave them a slight tug.

Apparently, her royal highness wasn't as pleased with my efforts to that point as I guess she wanted to be since I guess I wasn't fast enough for her?

She shot me a strange look as if to say, _What's your problem, Booth? Have you never undressed a woman before? _

I smirked cockily in response, deciding to meet her challenge head on, and then proceeded to slide those sweet little panties over her hips and down her creamy, white thighs. I didn't turn my head or swivel my eyes—yes, I actually do have _some _self-control, believe it or not—until I'd gotten them most of the way down to her knees.

Then, glancing at her beautiful auburn curls out of the corner of my eye, and noting the way they glistened under the warm light of my bedside lamp, I slid them the rest of the way off her legs, noting with an amused smile the way she wiggled them off her ankles, and unceremoniously tossed them over the side of the bed.

"Better?" I asked with a grin.

* * *

><p>Once I was naked, I knew it wasn't going to take much to push me over the edge. Normally, when I have to try to get in the mood, it takes a bit of time and effort. I mean, it's not like I'm all that different since such is true for most women. We have to feel comfortable and safe and be able to feel like there isn't any pressure that we'll be interrupted. After that, that's normally when I close my eyes and let my legs fall open just a bit. Contrary to popular belief—and popular male perception—most women don't just flop down in bed and spread their legs as wide as they'll go like when they do if they're having sex with a male partner that logistically can need such physical access.<p>

No, when I touch myself, I actually sometimes prefer to draw my legs up so they're bent at the knees, and let my right leg fall away, but keep my left knee slightly flexed. I do this for a couple of reasons. First, I really like it when I can use my fingers to brush the inner skin of my thighs. I think it's one of my most sensitive and most erogenous zones—maybe even more so than my tits are. Sometimes I like to use one hand to caress my thigh while I use the fingers on my other hand to start to part my slit and play with my clit.

Without even realizing it, this is what I'd started to do as I laid back against the softness of the pillows, and I felt my heart rate increase and sensed a familiar buzzing that had been present since Booth had started to build towards his own orgasm.

"Oh, fuck," I muttered, squeezing my eyes shut as I suddenly realized that I was a _lot _closer to coming than I'd thought. "Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck—Boooooth..."

Things started to get a bit...scattered after that part. But, I still pressed forward...touching myself and moaning _his _name.

* * *

><p>I lay there on my side, my head propped on my hand as she lay next to me, her legs spread and her right hand dipping between her legs. She had her head leaned back, her neck arched a little, her mouth hanging open, and she was making these delicious, breathy little sounds that made my throat go dry just listening to them.<p>

"_Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck—Boooooth_..._"_

As soon as I heard her say my name, I felt this warmth spread through my chest, you know―I guess just from the idea that she was gonna reach that place, that amazing, incredible place, because of me.

"Bones," I whispered, leaning in and brushing my chin lightly against her shoulder before pulling away again. "Do you..." I watched her face, the way her forehead would crease and uncrease as she worked herself over, and I couldn't help but be fascinated. I wanted to touch her, but other than briefly touching her shoulder with my chin, I didn't. Somehow, I had this feeling she wanted a certain space, though I'm not sure why I thought that. But I did. "Bones," I said again. "I really liked hearing your voice, you know, when...when it was me. I love your voice. Do you...do you want to hear me talk to you?"

I felt very awkward as I waited for her to respond, but not necessarily in a bad way. Just in a sort of a curious yet directionless way. I've been with women before, obviously, but this woman was unlike any other. And I didn't know what to do...what she wanted me to do. So I admit it, I was asking for a bit more direction than I'd normally would. But, like I said, I didn't want to fuck this up and I knew that I wanted to give her what she wanted.

Whatever it was. However she wanted it. Wherever and whenever she wanted it.

I had to wait another minute before I finally got my answer. And, it was such a fucking awesome answer―not that I should've expected anything less from her, but, even still, there it was.

"I-I...ohhhhh, fuck, I...whatever you want," she finally moaned. "Whatever you want."

_Whatever you want._

I pressed my lips together and suppressed a smile, though I wasn't sure why, since her eyes were closed, and it wasn't like she could see my facial expression in that moment. Having swallowed that smile, I thought about what she'd just said and what it meant.

_Whatever you want. _

Well, damn. That one was easy. I already knew the answer to that one.

I wanted _her_.

So...if she said I could have whatever I wanted...that meant I could have _her_, didn't it?

Determined to see if my little jaunt into Bones' Land of Logic Reasoning was going to fly, I suddenly told her, "I want you, Bones." I chewed my lip for a minute before I said _fuck it_, and pressed on since I was in for a penny, in for a pound by that point. "And...I don't just mean that I _want _you...though I do...I want you more than anything I've ever wanted in my whole life. I want to touch you, and feel you, and taste you, and know you. But more than that, Bones..."

I watched her smile before her mouth fell open again, almost as if she was going to say something, but no words came out―she just had wonderful, breathy little sigh.

"More than that," I continued, my voice low and even as my eyes traced the curve of her chest as it rose and fell gently, and I found myself unable to stop the flood of romantic word-vomit that my mouth had started spewing at her. "More than any of that, Bones, I want _you_. I want to feel you fall asleep in my arms. I want to wake up next to you and watch you sleep."

I smiled at the memory of doing just that and how incredible it had been.

"You know, I watched you this morning, Bones, just sleeping. And you're so beautiful...so peaceful...when you're sleeping. I could watch you sleep for hours. The way you look. The way you sound... the sound of your breathing...the way your mouth looks, with this very faint little smile as you're sleeping. It's heaven, Bones. I want that every morning, Bones, I want it...and I want itwith you. So now I guess the only question I have is, did you mean it when I said I could've have whatever I want if what I want is you?"

So, there it was.

Now, the only thing left was to see how she was gonna respond. So, mentally crossing my fingers and toes, I breathed a silent prayer to St. Jude and waited to see how this roll of the die was gonna turn out for better or worse.

* * *

><p>One minute, I have to admit that I was coming fairly close to getting myself off. Like I said, I was more than halfway there when I'd started, and Booth definitely sped me on my way when he peeled my soaking panties off of me like they were nobody's business. But, in between me touching myself and moaning my name, all of a sudden, I realized that Booth had started talking to me.<p>

He was asking me questions...then? Right then? Seriously? I was about sixty seconds or less from pushing myself over the edge, and we'd gone from the simple one that I could answer with a vague half-answer, but confirm with an enthusiastic grunt (did I want to hear his voice as I kept fingering myself? _Fuck yes_) to some way, way more serious topics.

When I realized that he was talking about me...and what he wanted from me—and none of them were wants in a sexual sense—I stopped moving my hands in the circles that they'd been moving in as I touched my clit, and reluctantly stopped moaning and groaning. Forcing open my eyes, I swallowed once and looked up at him.

"Uhh, what, Booth?" I finally managed to string together. "What...what are you saying?"

* * *

><p><em>Oh, God, <em>I thought as I saw her hand still, her jaw tighten, her eyebrows furrow even as her eyes remained close, and her entire body stiffened, but not in a good way. _Damn. Shit. You stupid fucking fuck. Dammit, Booth._

"I-I...well..." I leaned my head back and took a breath, afraid that she'd hear a sigh and think I was somehow reneging on the deal.

_Oh, jeez. _

How could there possibly be any confusion in what I'd just asked her? So that meant if there wasn't any good reason why she couldn't understand what I was asking her, that had to mean she didn't want to understand.

_Oh, fuck. Not good. Not good at all._

Still, as she stared at me expectantly, I felt a need to try to begin damage control even though I wasn't quite certain how badly I'd just fucked up.

"Well, uhhh...I was just saying that...errrr...umm..." I winced at my idiotic stammering. "I was trying to tell you, Bones, that I want you. You know, I mean, you're the most beautiful, amazing, smartest, most incredible woman I've ever met, and you...I think about you all the time. I want you, Bones. I want to be with you, not just _with _you, in bed, but also..._with _you.".

She swallowed once and then nodded in a way that made me have hope that I hadn't fucked up things as badly as I might've originally thought. "I know that, Booth. I figured as much when you told me that you wanted me to stay. I just...we're okay. Right? We...I thought we didn't need to figure this out now and that we might just...well, remember, short strokes?"

I couldn't help but chuckle a little, because there's no damn way that Bones knows what that little metaphor even means. She's been on a golf course exactly once, I think, and it was when we had that one case during the first year we started to work together. Since then, I'm quite sure she's never played a round of golf in her life. I mean, there was that one time she tagged along one Saturday when I'd taken Parker to this mini-golf place that had a dinosaur theme-thingy going on since he'd been on a giant lizard kick ever since his class took this field trip to the Jeffersonian's Museum of Natural History. Anyway, it'd been shockingly bad how horrible she'd been, shooting a quintuple bogey on a par-four hole time after time so that, out of mercy, I stopped keeping score after the ninth hole saw her at 143 strokes over par. It was really fun whispering to Parker what a slaughter rule was while I was trying not to let her know how bad she was really doing, not that it probably even matter since she kept going on and on about how the holes were labeled inaccurately. She got hung up on the first hole about how inappropriate it was to have a _Brontosaurus _hole when the proper scientific term was _Apatosaurus _and never quite made it back.

But, then again, that's just Bones for you. She tries so hard...like right then. She was trying so hard, and it made me want to kiss her and hug her forever, but still. There was that little thing to be handled...like me telling her that I wanted more than to watch herself getting off or even fucking her. I wanted more...and now I needed to tell her.

"Yeah," I said, with a nod. "Short strokes. Right." She blinked at me a few times in surprise and her look sorta unnerved me. Mumbling, I told her, "I'm sorry...I...uhh, well...it's that...well, I didn't mean to, umm, distract you from those wonderful little short strokes you were doing there, Bones—"

_Open mouth, prepare to insert foot._

"I-I just, uhhh...look, it's just that sitting here, watching you touch yourself like that, looking forward to seeing you get off, I just couldn't help but think how much I wanted you to get there, because...well, because I want you to feel as wonderful as you are—" I stopped and made a face when I realized what I'd just said.

_Shit. What the fuck did I just say? That doesn't make any sense? Come on, fucktard. Focus. Just tell her...but wait five minutes. You got your chance to feel good and now it's hers, so yeah. Right._

" I want that for you, Bones, so...so, don't let me...you know, get it the way of that," I nodded.

It was still awkward, but loads better than before because at least I was somewhat coherent this time as I tried to make an excuse up and simultaneously apologize for my lack of self control and craptastic timing in deciding to tell her how I really felt and what I really wanted from her. I mean, yeah. I couldn't wait just a few more minutes before I decided to drop an emotional bombshell on her, right?

_Dumbass._

Right. Let her get off, feel good, _then _you can tell her.

"So, ummm...yeah. Just forget I interrupted...and uhhh, feel free to get back to doing what you were doing there," I said, smiling at her lamely.

The look she gave me right the let me knew I was screwed. Even if her look hadn't, when she spoke next, her words made things pretty clear that I was past a Bones point-of-no-return. I should've known she's not the type of girl who doesn't take kindly to her getting off getting interrupted without some kind of explanation. But...yeah. I was fucked, and when she spoke, she verbally confirmed it to me.

"No," she said, shaking her head, as she sat up and leaned towards me. Crooking her finger, she wagged it at me as she said, "You stopped me for a reason."

_Shit...wait. What?_

I narrowed my eyes in confusion as I looked at her.

_Huh?_

Well, if that didn't take the cake, I didn't know what did. She wasn't angry. I could tell. She was...well, I wasn't quite sure...but with Bones, you sure as hell know when she's angry. And this time, I could tell—no matter how she felt at me interrupting her, she wasn't angry in the slightest. Hmmm...interesting.

"What is it, Booth?" she pressed me again, her voice gentle in its breathlessness. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"Hmmm," I murmured, as I looked at her curiously.

Like I said, that's Bones. She's just always surprising me. Go figure.

After a minute, I decided that there wasn't any good reason not to tell her what she wanted to know if she wasn't angry then. So, I took a breath and explained. "I-I guess...well...you'll probably think it's stupid, but..." I hesitated before I continued. "I thought I wanted to watch you make yourself come, Bones," I said. "But I think I changed my mind." I swallowed, waiting for her to say something.

"You want me," she repeated my earlier statement as if it was a fact she'd already accepted and not a question she needed to contemplate or even ask.

"Yeah," I whispered, unable to suppress a grin at seeing how her beautiful pale eyes had suddenly darkened and the skin on her chests flushed a soft, warm shade of pink. "I do. I meant what I said. I want you more than anything. And more importantly I wanna to show you how much I want you. I want...I want to make you come, Bones. I want to do it for you, to show you Myself."

She blinked at me a few times, and then she asked me quietly with a small nod, "Okay, then." She stopped, tilted her head at me, and then said, "I suppose I really have one more question for you, Booth."

_Uh oh. _

This is either going to be really, really good or really, really bad.

_Please, God, _I silently prayed. _Have mercy and don't let me have fucked up what could be the best thing that's ever happened to me in my entire sorry life. Just...have some pity okay? Please?_

Hoping that the internal wince I felt wasn't showing, I asked nervously, "And what's that, Bones?"

She waited until she held my gaze, and when she smiled at me, I knew—for whatever crazy fucking reason that I couldn't understand even if I was really fucking grateful for it—that things were going to be okay. As if that weren't enough of a sign, though, Bones did me one better as she scooted towards me a little more, almost crawling on her knees towards me, and stopped only when a couple of inches separated us.

Tilting her head, she blinked a couple of times before she asked playfully, "What the fuck are we waiting for?"

_Good fucking question, _I thought as I shook my head and grunted. _I can't think of one good reason._

And, after that realization, I knew there wasn't anything else to say...but plenty of things left to do. And so...I started doing them.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** _Yes, another über-long Dharmasera chapter. But it was so worth it, wasn't it? Heh. We think it was. But, what do you good people think?_

_So, we said this a couple of times before, but this is one of a group of fairly experimental pieces Dharmasera have done lately. This one, of course, is experimental from the standpoint of the style in which we've written it. First person narrative is a tricky thing. It either works or it doesn't. Alternating first person is even more difficult to pull off in a way that preserves a coherent narrative, especially where the narrators have such dramatically different ways of thinking and speaking. In any case, we hope this is working for you folks, but we'd love to hear from you._

_Let us know what you thought of this fifth and second-to-last installment of "He Said, She Said." De-lurkers, we know you're out there. (The monkey talked to one on Twitter just today. You know who you are.) Come on. De-lurk and tell us what you think._

_Thanks! We love you guys and we always, always love hearing from you._


	32. 32—He Said, She Said, Part VI

**A Very Bad Idea**

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><p><strong>By<strong>**:** dharmamonkey & Lesera128  
><strong>Rated<strong>**: **M  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>**: **Ummm, nope, we still don't own anything. We have, however, apparently become squatters in the sandbox that we crashed... so, umm... yeah. There we go.

* * *

><p><strong>AN****: **_Here is the sixth and final installment of this, our eighth "Very Bad Idea" scenario. This one was a bit of an experiment, and, all in all, we think it turned out well. Seems that a lot of readers thought so, too. How well did it turn out for our heroes? Oh...well, wouldn't you like to find out? Of course you would. Alright, enough senseless teasing. It's showtime!_

**UNF ALERT**: _Right. Last chapter of a VBI scenario. You folks probably have this figured out by now. Unfness of the very best, most satisfying kind always shows up in the last chapter of a VBI scenario; this is the last chapter of a VBI scenario, therefore, satisfying unfness follows. So, if you're not into reading about adults engaged in adult activities with other adults, or shouldn't be, better move along now. If you want that sort of thing, read on, dear friends, read on._

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><p><strong>VIII. He Said, She Said, Part VI<strong>

**Pertinent Details on Scenario #8****: **Set during the beginning of episode 5x01: "Harbingers in the Fountain."

* * *

><p>Once I'd made my decision, I reached around and, putting my hands on her hips, gently pulled her towards me. As I'd expected, she didn't hesitate, and as our eyes met, she moved to close the last couple of inches between us and straddled my thighs.<p>

It's funny, actually, but the first thing I noticed when she did that—even though there were a million neurons lighting off, only a very few of them were actually in my skull—was the way the warm skin of her inner thighs felt against the outside of my thighs. Her skin was so soft, silky and buttery and warm, just perfect really, and so feminine, and the contrast of it with my legs with all the rough hair and everything—well, I don't know why it struck me like that, but it did. For a few moments, I just sort of soaked in the sensation of it, and then my brain, or part of it, clicked on again, and I realized that I had her, all of her, in all of her delicious, magnificent glory, perched over me, ready and willing and close enough to touch.

And so I did.

I squeezed her hips, reveling in the way the soft, springy flesh felt under my fingertips as she sighed, looking down at me with dark, twinkling blue-green eyes the color of a stormy ocean surf. I let go, brought my hands around to caress the top of her ass, marveling at how incredibly soft and smooth her skin was. She leaned forward with a grin, and her breasts swayed above me, and suddenly the curve of her ass seemed a little less interesting to me in that moment. My hands migrated up from her ass to her tits as if I was a man possessed—well, I suppose I was, really—and however hard I was in that moment, the second my palms made contact with the delicious roundness of her breasts, I was sure I had just hardened into friggin' tungsten carbide. I squeezed them gently, my eyes darting from those beautiful breasts—with those rosy, pebbled, pert nipples that felt absolutely incredible when I swiped my thumbs over them—and up to her eyes, which were darker than I'd ever seen 'em before (a couple of shades darker than they were even when she was lapping my come off my stomach a few minutes earlier) and held my gaze for several seconds, then her eyelids seemed almost to thicken before they closed and her mouth fell open in a sigh.

"God, Bones," I breathed as I raised my head a little and met one of her nipples with my mouth as she leaned in and covered me with her sumptuous body.

"Ohhh..." she sighed in a moan that was music to my ears. "_Booothh_."

I closed my lips around her nipple for a moment but then quickly released it. A short, frustrated breath escaped from Bones' lips, and I couldn't help but smile. She was so turned on—hell, so was I—and so fucking keyed up, her natural impatience was breaking through.

Well, hey, who was I to argue?

I reached up again with one hand and gave that beautiful breast a soft squeeze as I let my tongue circle over the other nipple. I could taste her, her sweet sweat, as I laved my tongue around that dusky, tight flesh, and I gave her a few turns before I couldn't stand it anymore and took her whole nipple in my mouth, giving it a good stiff suck.

The only thing that drove me wilder in that moment than the way her sweaty skin tasted or the way her taut nipples felt against my tongue was the sounds that she made as I sucked on her tits. But you know, I'm a fair-minded guy, and after worshiping her right tit with my mouth until that dusky rose nipple had darkened, I just had to give that other beautiful breast its fair share of my adoration. And so that's exactly what I started to do, and it was awesome.

So fucking awesome.

_Heh_.

* * *

><p>One might think that I'm actually the type of sexual partner that, given my self-confidence and lack of any unease about such matters, that I might be the type of person that's unusually loud when I engage in sexual behavior. Believe it or not, but I'm not actually very verbal when it comes to sex. It's actually one time in my life when I purposely try to think just a little bit less than I do on any other occasion and react a bit more instinctively. I've found that I tend to enjoy myself more in such situations, and I also find my release to be stronger when I'm more relaxed and not overthinking things. So, while I quite often will toss out the occasional word of appropriate response when I'm engaging with foreplay—and, I actually rarely remember what I said when I'm building towards my orgasm since I, as I said, try not to overthink things—I'm more likely to make unintelligible sounds like sighs, grunts, and moans of pleasure.<p>

As Booth continued to touch me, the small part of my brain that was still somehow engaged discovered a delicious nugget of information that metaphorically tickled me. Apparently, Booth loves it when he's having sex with a woman if she's just vocal enough that he can tell she's making sounds—sighs, grunts, and moans of pleasure—because of whatever _he's _doing to her, or in this particular case, me, in that moment.

I never doubted that he'd be a talented lover. I also never doubted that, setting aside our intense physical attraction to one another, we'd be very compatible as sexual partners. What _did _surprise me is how inventive he could be when he had a mind to see what other types of sounds he could elicit from me.

It had started out simply enough.

Once I realized that there was no good reason not to give him what he wanted if what—or, who, as the more accurate descriptor had turned out to be—he wanted, all that was left for me to let him know that I felt the same way about him as he apparently felt about me. And, now, we could act on it.

He'd reached out fairly quickly after I'd asked him what we were waiting for and then started to kiss me as he grabbed my ass.

It felt...well, it felt fucking _great_.

But, then, as was to be expected, he quickly focused on my breasts. Now, I've long suspected that my breasts held a certain fascination for Booth, and I wasn't disappointed when he moved his mouth to one of my nipples. At some point, the small rational part that had been engaged up until that moment seemed to disengage, because I don't remember a lot of what happened once he started sucking on my nipple, and I started to writhe under his touch.

The next thing that I _do _remember is that at some point he seemed to want to see how creative he could be when he continued to focus his attention on my breasts with his mouth while he moved one of his hands from the swell of my hip where it had been resting, coasted his palmed across my pubic bone, and then dip low to the wetness of my slick folds.

I was already so close to coming given how turned on I'd been by watching him work himself over, when combined with the time I'd spent touching myself, he barely had enough time to part my slit, gather a profuse amount of my glistening fluids on his fingers, and then just rubbed my swollen clit a few times, I coasted to what was a rather pleasant and toe-curling orgasm.

My body convulsed in a slight way, and as it did so, I could hear my heartbeat roaring in my ears at the same time I saw Booth lift his head from where he'd been sucking on my tit, and then let it fall away from his mouth in mild surprise. He arched one eyebrow at me in question, as if he _really _needed me to confirm to him the answer to his unspoken question.

But, what the fuck?

He's a male, and males _do _need constant affirmation of their skills and virility.

So, as I collapsed lightly against him, I sighed in contentment as I murmured a response to his unasked question, "Yes, I did. Are you happy about that? Because I certainly know I am."

* * *

><p>I'm not really sure what I expected, actually.<p>

I mean, I know she was pretty worked up, after watching me get off, then working herself over for a bit before I kind of derailed her train there—_oops, sorry, Bones_—and then she straddled me and leaned over to let me do a short worship service in honor of her epically amazing and, dare I say, delicious-tasting tits. I was halfway out of my mind with the way her nipples felt on my tongue and between my lips, but when I reached down between her legs so I could give her the full stereo experience, I knew she'd get there. I just didn't think she'd get there that quick. While I wouldn't call Bones a control freak—well, actually, who am I kidding? of course, I would. She's a total typical Type A personality control freak—she's definitely a woman who likes things...hmmm...well-ordered and running on a schedule, with everything in its proper place. She's not really a 'let go and let it all hang out' kind of person.

Except, apparently that is, in bed.

I should've figured, really, had I taken a moment to think about it. After all, she'd scratched the shit out of my back and went aggro enough on the grab ass grabbykins during the forever-shrouded-in-drunken-mystery-fuck the night before that she'd left bruises. That's not exactly a hallmark of a woman in control, and I was coming to realize just how grateful I was for that fact.

In any case, I was still a bit surprised how quickly she went that first time. Delighted as all fuck, sure, but still pretty fucking surprised. I mean, I wasn't just delighted because she came, although I was happy about that. I wanted her to feel good. Hell, not good—I wanted to make her feel great. I wanted to set off an Oppenheimer-quality nuclear chain reaction in that genius brain of hers that I loved so goddamn much and hurtle her into a full-on melt-down sequence that neither of us would ever forget. And seeing her come that quickly, with not a tremendous lot of effort on my end, was a very auspicious beginning to that process. Never mind the fact that I was nearly out of my own mind with want and so hard it damn near hurt.

I reached up with one hand and gave her other breast a gentle squeeze, then brought both of my hands down to her hip and, nudging her a little by raising my chin since she'd kind of collapsed on top of me after that nice little orgasm of hers, raised her up off of me enough that I could line myself up under her. Bones hovered there over me, her mouth hanging open a little as she coasted down from her high and her breathing settled into a normal rhythm again, and our eyes locked together, each of us staring into the other's eyes for several long moments—a minute, maybe, I'm not sure. I knew by the way those pale eyes of hers had darkened, and the way they blazed and flickered back at me, that she was more than ready. I held myself there in a loose grip, hard and ready, waiting for her to give me the sign, some kind of signal she was ready for this.

She blinked at me, and then, narrowing her eyes slightly, tilted her head a little and covered my mouth with her demanding kiss, her tongue sliding into my mouth and twirling against my own, in the very same moment that she lowered herself onto me, swallowing me up in all her silky amazing glory. Her lips mashed against mine, each of our mouths grasping at the other in a hungry kiss, and all I could utter was a quiet, half-swallowed moan as I felt her begin to move on top of me.

She felt amazing. I wish I had a better word than that, but...

_Oh, my God..._

Being inside of her, and feeling her warm, slippery wet body totally envelop me, opening up for me with each downward stroke she made as she rocked her hips back and forth, closing around me with a tightness that made my eyes roll back into my head and my breath catch in my throat at the incredible feel of it—it's hard to put into words the way it felt being inside of her for the first time.

Except, of course, it actually wasn't the _first _time.

But it was the first time in the sense it was the first one that either of us remembered. So, look, as far as I was concerned, I'd decided that this was our first time. And what a super awesome fucking first time it was.

I slid my hands around the curve of her hips, stroking my fingers over that wonderful place on the small of her back I loved so much before palming the round, soft cheeks of her ass. I held back for a minute as she settled into a rhythm, rolling those hips of hers back and forth, but as soon as it seemed she was in a groove, I began to move, too, thrusting my hips up to meet each one of her strokes and send myself as deep into her hot, wet, tight pussy as I could.

_Oh God..._

I was inside of her.

_Wow. Just...wow._

I think it was the most amazing thing I'd ever felt in my life. Each time she moved, and took me all the way inside of her, I felt her muscles tense and close up around me, tightening the already mind-numbingly tight little sheath around me. It was everything I could do in the first couple of minutes to not come right then, each time she tightened around me.

"Oh, my God, Bones," I sighed aloud. "You feel so fucking good...oh, God..."

It's a miracle I could even speak, really, with the way she felt and how she was making me feel.

The sensation of her enveloping me was so fucking amazing, absolutely incredible, unbelievably awesome. But what blew my mind even more was to see her face: the way her eyes looked, almost but not quite closed, the way the muscles of her face slackened and the creases in her forehead relaxed away, and the way her mouth gaped open a little, just enough to let her voice those breathy little sighs and slowly-peaking moans that made me just a little bit harder when I heard them.

And God, I loved the noises she made.

I'd be lying if I said it was the best part, but holy fucking shit, I'd be lying if I told you it wasn't the next best thing. In those minutes, as she rode me and those wonderful, totally unintelligible breathy sounds passed from her lips each time I bottomed out inside of her, I knew I would do whatever I could to hear those sounds every damn day for the rest of my life. Each time I heard the little sequence of sounds—a quiet, barely audible sigh as she stroked back and away, then a long, low moan punctuated by a soft grunt as she rocked forward again and I surged back inside of her, pressing up and into her as deeply as I could from below—I felt myself rumbling along the track, picking up speed as I rolled faster and faster towards oblivion.

I knew if I didn't do something to shift the balance here, she was going to unravel me before I wanted to go. I wanted her to come again—at least one more time, if not twice—before I was gonna let myself go. But with her riding me like that, maintaining the pace like that, I didn't have a chance at lasting, even though I'd have thought coming before would've taken the edge off. So, in any case, I took matters into my own hands.

Was that a little alpha male of me?

Yeah. Probably.

But did I care?

Nope, not if it meant holding onto my self-control for another few minutes while I let the Booth train stop at a couple of stations—stops number two and three for her—before pulling into our final destination, which I was pretty sure was gonna be the end of the line for me, at least for a while. So I brought one of my hands up from her ass—damn, she has a fucking exquisite ass—and cupped the delicate edge of her square jaw. I pulled her in for another kiss, closing my mouth over her parted lips and cutting off the long moan as she stroked over me. She fell into my kiss, and a wave of aggression surged through me as I plundered her sweet mouth, curling my tongue around the tip of hers as I savored the warm, vaguely spicy taste of her, letting her pull away for a moment to take a breath before pulling her back again. I felt her slender fingers on my jaw, toying with the week's worth of scruff on my face, as she kissed me back with equal passion as I'd just kissed her.

Damn, she was a good kisser. Great, really. I mean I did know that, but even still.

I broke our kiss, grinning as she gently scraped my beard with the tips of her nails. I opened my mouth to apologize for not having shaved the day before, but as she began to move her hips again, I knew I needed to move or she was gonna un-do me before either of us was ready.

I dropped my hands back down to her hips, and the moment she rocked forward to take me all the way in again, I met her stroke, hard, but with a sideways motion that fractured her focus and knocked her off balance, and that was when I rolled her over onto her back with a deep, admittedly caveman-like grunt.

_A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, right?_

* * *

><p>I let him roll me over. I suppose I let him do it for two reasons. First, it wasn't like I couldn't roll us over again if I didn't like the way this position allowed him to penetrate me. Second, I guess I have to admit that I was feeling decidedly and deliciously feminine because of my earlier orgasm and the intense feeling of finally having him inside me. It was a warm and wonderful feeling of being filled up by him that was topped only by the mind-scattering effects the friction I felt when he slid in and out of me had on my mental state. So, it was a small thing to concede to him the ability to position us in the way he wished.<p>

Booth continued to stroke into me a few times, and I could tell as he tried to set a rhythm to his pace that he was controlling himself for some reason I wasn't quite certain about. My scattered brain, distracted as it was, still managed to wonder why he was deciding to be such a control freak...especially now that we'd finally cleared the metaphorical air between us. As he moved over me, I saw the tense muscles in his jaw tighten as he gritted his teeth and beads of sweat had collected on his brow. Tilting my head, I blinked several times through a heavy lidded gaze as I waited to catch his eyes. However, again, for some reason, even mid-coitus, Booth seemed to have developed some obsessive fixation with my tits. When he wasn't touching them, he had them in his mouth. When they weren't in his mouth, he was ogling them with his eyes. Now, at the particular moment, as he balanced his weight on both of his strong forearms over me, I saw him not only ogling on them, but he seemed riveted by the sight of my breasts jiggling each time as I took a deep breath, moving my chest, or when he stroked up into me and caused my back to arch in response.

It was rather funny from a certain perspective.

Special Agent Seeley Booth could apparently be undone by the right pair of tits, i.e., _my tits. _

Maybe I was wrong when I said I didn't possess magical powers over human beings just because I had a set of mammary glands. I mean, it's not like I'm a witch or anything—either Wiccan or a practitioner of would-be supernatural forces. But, apparently, with the way that Booth was fixated on them, I guess I was wrong, and my breasts did have some certain superpowers after all.

Chuckling, I licked my lips, and then began to get frustrated after a minute when he still refused to lift his eyes a mere twelve inches higher than the twin spots where they'd looked as he continued to thrust into me.

Growling, I didn't want to stop us all together, but I knew I needed to get his attention somehow. That was when I slowly wrapped my arms around his waist, I saw his lips curl into a smile, and then I moved my hands down from his bony hips to the taut muscles of his ass. Before he knew what I was doing, I firmly squeezed in what seemed to be a very grabbable spot with each hand—which was promptly followed by Booth yelping like a little girl as a flash of pain contorted his face.

"Bones!"

He lost his concentration and collapsed on top of me—_not_ in the good way, either—with a grunt, knocking the air out of both of us in the process.

Of course, I don't know why I was surprised when that happened. I mean, this was Booth we're talking about here. It's not like anything with him could ever be easy, right?

Even fucking, it appeared.

* * *

><p><em>Wow.<em>

I'd just started to get myself into a really sweet groove, driving into her, not too fast but not too slow, and I'd just about found a nice rhythm, too.

Man, she felt great—wet, warm and so damn tight I couldn't freakin' believe it—and I have to admit, it wasn't just the way she felt on the inside, but also the way the silky skin of her inner thighs felt against my skin as I moved in between her legs—yes, it was even more awesome as time went on then it had been at the start of all of this, and I'd thought it was pretty fucking awesome then, so that should say something—and the humming sound that came from her throat amid all those delicious, breathy sighs. Then she made this grunting sound that was really sexy—no, really, it was—and reached her hands around my waist, and I kind of tucked my chin down against my chest and started to drive a little harder, rolling my hips back and forth so I can put my weight in just the right place. I felt a bead of sweat dribble down the side of my face as I kept moving, every one of my senses filling with the experience of her: the feel of her, the sounds she made, the way she smelled, and the sight of those absolutely amazing tits of hers, rolling back and forth on her chest with each one of my strokes. It was just awesome.

I was basking in the experience of finally being with her—making love to her—when, all of a sudden, those wonderful fingers of hers slithered around to my backside and grabbed ahold of my ass in a viselike grip.

And it hurt like a goddamn motherfucker.

I mean, seriously. It really, _really _hurt.

"Bones!" I cried out, my arms giving out on me a little as the wonderful rhythm I'd managed to work out came to a screeching halt. It was like jerking the needle off an LP in the middle of the soaring guitar solo halfway through the best damn song on the record. I collapsed a little from where I'd been holding myself up over her, and I heard her gasp as I crushed her under me. Luckily, knocking the wind out of her a bit seemed to shock her enough that she loosened her grip on my already-bruised ass-flesh.

"Ouch!" I squeaked as I caught my breath and propped myself up again. "Be careful, baby," I said, twisting my hips a little as I tried to shake off the residual sting of her latest round of grab-ass but trying to keep myself inside of her at the same time.

"What's the problem, Booth?" she asked, a teasing edge to her voice.

I took a breath. "Those scratches," I said. "You know, the ones on my back? Well, that's not the only marks you left on me last night, Bones."

She arched an eyebrow and gave me a strange look as she let her hands fall back to the outside of my hips. "What are you talking about?" she asked me.

I leaned my head back and sighed, then looked down at her again with a sheepish grin. "I don't know what the hell we did last night, baby," I said with a shrug, "but it must've been something _insane_, because not only did you work quite a little number on my back with those nails of yours, but you really went and did a squeeze-the-Charmin bit on my ass." The blank, nonplussed look on her face left no doubt in my mind that she had no idea who Mr. Whipple was or why he'd be admonishing shoppers not to squeeze the rolls of TP in the store. "Ummm," I continued. "What I'm saying is, Bones, I've got a nice set of black and blue marks on my ass shaped just like your fingerprints. It's okay, but—you know, just take it easy on the grabbykins, okay?"

I raised my eyebrows and waited a few seconds before I started to move again.

* * *

><p>I failed to see how I could be chastised for what I'd done (or not done) as the case may've been last night since I didn't remember any of it. However, that's exactly what Booth did when he informed me that in addition to marking his back with my nails, I'd apparently inflicted a series of bruises on his rear posterior, leaving my fingerprints on the various groupings of his gluteal muscles.<p>

Okay, I was supposed to know this information how exactly? It's not like (a) I could remember doing it or (b) I could obtain the information this morning since Booth hadn't exactly let me have a hands-on examination of his well-developed ass.

I was tempted to sulk a bit at what I knew logically he'd intended as nothing but a gentle chastisement for practical considerations. However, I was still irked by his mild reproach. I mean, had I said anything to him? It's not like I was castigating him for the skin irritation that I knew I had received (now, at least) as a result of the fact that since he hadn't shaved in some time, his stubble had affected the skin around my neck, chest, and inner thighs. Did I say anything about that? No, but I began to think maybe I should.

Then, there was also that irksome detail that he'd referred to me as 'baby'—and he'd done it twice in less than two minutes. That was an inauspicious sign as far as I was concerned, particularly since I didn't like him doing it. Not only does it infantilize me, but it reminds me of a damn Patsy Cline song that my dad used to love playing on end, looping the record when I was growing up.

_He called me baby, baby, all night long  
><em>_Built me up so high, and made me strong  
><em>_Now each night, in dreams, just like a song  
><em>_I still hear baby, baby  
><em>_Still hear baby, baby  
><em>_Still hear baby, baby, all night long_

That damn song always gets stuck in my head every time that I hear someone call someone else 'baby'. So, it only seemed natural that I would resist Booth's attempt to apply such a term of endearment to me when we were in such intimate proximity to one another.

I was about to open my mouth to make such sentiments known when Booth flashed me that toothy grin of his and lowered his gaze back to my chest when he started to move again.

_That _was what did it.

Wrapping my left leg around his waist, paying enough attention that I placed it high enough so that I knew I was avoiding his bruised gluteal muscle groupings, I leveraged what momentum I could to roll us over once more. I heard Booth grunt as he suddenly found himself on his back once more. As I rose up over him, I reached for both his hands and intertwined my fingers with his. Squeezing them, I waited until his eyes had _finally _lifted to meet mine.

Nodding at him, I said softly, "Eyes up here, Booth."

"Huh?"

"I said," I told him, grinding my pelvis so that I was able to elicit a very pleasing groan from him, "if either one of us is close to coming as I believe we are, I would appreciate it...if you'd stop looking at my tits for five seconds and really look...at...me, okay? I'm more than my tits."

Booth blinked at me for several seconds and then repeated, "Huh?"

I grinned as I realized how quickly he'd managed to have his concentration scattered as I continued to grind against him while lifting myself up and down in my own preferred rhythm.

Laughing, I told him, "Are you close to coming?"

He blinked and then groaned again as I moved once more. His tongue lolled at the corner of his mouth as he moaned, "Oh, fuck—_yeeeessss._"

"Then, keep your eyes on me...not...on...my...tits," I moaned as I started to feel the tightness of my inner walls began to tingle in a way that let me know another orgasm was close at hand. My already shallow breathing continued to rasp as I threw back my head and arched my chest forward in spite of my admonition for him not to look at my tits. I couldn't help it as I moaned his name, "Fuck, Booth—good...that's very good."

And, in that moment, it was good.

_Very good_.

And, quite thankfully, it was only about to get better.

* * *

><p>I was so stunned when she did that little thing with her leg and rolled us over so that I was flat on my back again—I mean, it wasn't that I was surprised she could pull that off, what with all her black belts in karate and so on, but more that she'd done it when we were in such a delicious, sweet little groove, the way I was grinding into her—it was like a temporary brown-out for my neurons. It took me a few seconds to be able to do more than grunt in response. Then she started to give me this mini-lecture about staring at her tits, and it was a damn miracle I didn't blow a circuit considering what precious little mental bandwidth I was operating with at that point. But then she got to moving again, and holy hell, when she did, well, I'm being completely and 100% fucking honest when I say that her breasts were the last damn thing I was thinking about in that minute.<p>

She lifted herself up just so and slid back down onto me, giving it just enough of a twist with her hips at the same time she got a little tighter, I felt my balls hitch real tight all of a sudden, and I knew I was just about there, and if I didn't pull my shit together quick, I was gonna mess this one up big time. She looked down at me, and asked me if I was about ready to come, and how I managed to croak out some kind of response which was itself a candidate for an episode of _Unsolved Mysteries_—although, to be honest, now that I think about it, I'm not sure I want my sex life narrated by Robert Stack, as awesome a gumshoe as he once was in the Golden Age of Hollywood PI movies—since she was sliding her hot, wet, tight pussy over me, fast enough to take me by surprise, but slow enough to keep me from going all the way over the edge. But in any case, I blurted something out that apparently was a good enough response for her that she kept moving.

My skin burned hot as she moved over me, and it felt so good I thought I was going to lose my goddamn mind. My mind raced and my eyes skimmed her chest, skating over the curves of her shoulders and lingering for a moment on the notch at the base of her neck, searching for something, anything, that I could anchor my mind to so I could hold myself together for just a little while longer.

Then she said, "Keep your eyes on me...not...on...my...tits," and even though she leaned forward, letting those magnificent breasts of hers swing forward a little, there was something arresting about the tone of her voice, so smooth and husky, it sounded like suede, and I brought my eyes up to meet hers.

I've been getting lost in those eyes of hers for years, ever since the very morning I met her when I walked into her lecture at American. She's got amazing eyes—the most amazing eyes I've ever seen—and I could spend a lifetime just looking into them. They're blue, of course, flecked with gray and rimmed with green, and they change color depending on her mood. I looked up and watched her eyes as she continued to move over me, anchoring myself in her gaze, squeezing her hips gently in my hands as I thrust up to meet each of her strokes and bury myself as deeply inside of her as I could. Her eyes seemed to swirl with feeling, darkening to the color of the sea on a cloudy day as she rolled her hips back and forth, and I couldn't help but smile at seeing the bright flicker each time I jerked up to meet her at the same time I pulled her hips into me.

"You feel so fucking amazing, Bones," I groaned as I felt her clench around me as her own breathy sighs and soaring moans peaked. "Ohhh, fuck!"

"Ohhhh," she sighed, arching her back and leaning over me, her hands pressing into my chest as she impaled herself on me one last time. "Ohhhhh, _Booooo-ooooth_! Ohhhh...aaahh..."

She tightened around me one last time before she broke, shattering into a wave of flutters as she quivered around me. I gave her soft, curvy hips one last squeeze before I let and reached up to cup her face between the palms my hands, pulling her mouth to mine and kissing her, closing my eyes as I felt her warm tongue glance against mine. Just a moment later, I let our kiss swallow my own moan as I, too, broke, thrusting up into her one last time as I came.

* * *

><p>I cracked before he did, which I suppose might be slightly surprising considering the fact that I'd already come once. But, he wasn't that far behind me. I felt him buck his hips once more and thrust up into me at exactly the same time that I ground my hips one last time in an exquisite downward movement made all the more enjoyable by the shear friction of our bodies moving in simple unison.<p>

I vaguely heard him cry out a string of uttered moans that made my already warm body flush anew in pleasure.

"God, Bones—" he whispered. "Baby, I think I'm...ohhh, fuck, baby...I, uhhh...ohhh, fuck...holy fuck..._Boooonnes._"

I collapsed against him and I felt him shudder as he moved once last time inside me, pouring himself into me as he came just as my knees started to lose the tight grip they'd held on his hips. By the time he was done, my body had lost the bility to remain upright as I pooled in a puddle of warm and sweaty softness on his stomach. I heard him grunt lightly as he struggled to draw in huge gasps of breath despite the fact that my body weighed down on him. Some conscious part of my brain realized this, and I summoned what non-existent energy I could to try to roll off of him. I wasn't certain how far I was going to get, but I knew I had to try because it would be a pretty dumb fucking horrible turn of luck if Booth and I finally got on the same metaphorical page at the same time, and he dropped dead from asphyxiation. However, as I grunted and tried to roll off of him, his chest heaved with a deep breath as his hands grabbed my ass and held me firmly in place.

His dark brown eyes focused on me as he continued to suck down air. He held my stare for a minute before he smiled a toothy grin, and said, "Nah uh."

"What?" I gasped. "You...need...to...breathe."

"I'm...fine," he said in between gulps of air. "Stay there."

"Why?" I asked him, even as I struggled to regain my equilibrium, beginning with a regular set of even and steady breaths.

"'Cause," he said with a sheepish grin. "I want you to stay put."

I pursed my lips and then shrugged my shoulders slightly as I snuggled against his chest. "If you become unconscious from a lack of oxygen, it's on you," I murmured against his sweaty pectoralis major muscle grouping.

"Mmm'kay," he murmured in agreement as he tilted his head and murmured into my ear. "Deal."

He brought his arms up and wrapped them around me, and I let him cradle me against his chest because I was feeling unusually feminine in that moment. I suppose it might've been due to the fact that Booth had _finally _found some way to render me speechless...even if the lack of verbalization on my part was temporary.

I made this point—i.e., that the lack of speaking on my part was temporary—when I yawned and then said softly, "Booth?"

"Hmmm?" he murmured drowsily into my ear.

"I'm still annoyed," I whispered.

"'Bout what?" he asked with his voice already heavy with a sound that I knew meant he wasn't that far from falling off to sleep.

"That we can't remember what happened last night," I said. I paused, and smiled as I felt the warmth of his body flowing into mine, and then amended, "But, I suppose if we're destined never to recover such memories, I'm okay with it since we'll always remember this time, right?"

Tilting his head at me, he smiled as he said, "Always, Bones."

We were quiet for another moment and then another thought jumped into my head.

"Booth?" I asked.

"Hmmmmm?"

"We'll figure out someway to make this work, right?" My voice was small in that moment, and there were many other questions that I wanted to ask him.

I wanted to know if what I felt for him was love.

I wanted to know if he meant it when he'd said he'd loved me.

I wanted to know how we'd manage to balance a joint personal life with our professional partnership.

And, most of all, I wanted to know how in the hell we'd manage to do that without everyone realizing what had shifted between us before we acclimated to the change ourselves.

With all those wants, it was hard to know where to begin, right? So, I just started at the top.

I think it's been mentioned before, but it's worth saying again. I've never been in love. Before Booth, I never even thought such a thing existed or was possible. But, when I was away from him after the surgery...during those weeks I spent in Guatemala? Well, I realized something very, _very _important about him...about myself..about us. I cared about him...and I felt something that I'd ever felt before and doubt I could ever feel for another person. So, that being said, if such a thing is the definition of love, then maybe it took me almost losing Booth to come to the conclusion that I love him.

_I love Booth_.

I have for a while now...and, well...maybe if I can say I definitely know the answer to _that _question...then maybe the other things weren't such big deals. Maybe just knowing that I love him and he loves me...maybe that would be enough proof for me to know that somehow, someway, I knew everything would be okay since all the other questions would be answered in due time.

He was silent for a minute, and even as I watched him struggle to formulate an appropriate response, I knew it didn't matter. We were together, and we loved each other, and we would find a way to make things work. Almost as if he sensed my realized, Booth gave me a relaxed smile as he replied, "Short strokes, remember, Bones?"

I did remember, and I nodded back at him with a slight smile tugging at the edge of my lips.

Something seemed to make Booth nervous in my demeanor because he then added, his voice calm and gentle, "You just gotta believe, Bones, we'll do what we need to do, get where we need to go, and figure things out in between, huh?"

I considered his words for a minute and then asked, "You really think we can make this work?"

He reached up, lifting his head off the bed, and gave me a lopsided grin as he nodded and then his mouth grasped for mine as he answered me with his kiss.

As his brain began to come out of its post-orgasmic haze, I had to admit that I was rather impressed that he'd hit upon a rather minimalist way to answer my question quite...effectively. Then, another part of me silently wondered if he thought that he might get the last word on the subject of what had just happened to us since—from a certain perspective—he'd shut me up with a kiss. For now, I decided, as I enjoyed the feel of his lips on mine, I was content to let him think he'd had finally gotten the last word between us...for once in his life. After all, I knew I could disabuse him of that mistaken belief if I ever really needed to...and for now, I was quite content to let him hold onto that false illusion as long as it meant he kept touching me and kissing me exactly as he was in the moment because it felt so damn good.

And, so, for now—as far as I was concerned in that moment—that was that.

* * *

><p><em>I knew it<em>.

I knew by the way she kissed me.

More than the words she said, or the tone of her voice, or even the way she looked at me with those incredible, gorgeous, soul-swallowing eyes of hers, it was the way she kissed me that told me she was ready to go all-in and give this thing between us a real shot. Her kisses had always been like that, really—going all the way back to the night our lips first met in that that knee-melting kiss in the driving rain behind my old pool bar—telling me the truth of how she really felt, even when she couldn't bring those same lips of hers to tell me with words.

I_ knew it_.

I loved her. I loved her more than anything, more than I'd ever loved anyone else, and had for years, and feeling her lips on mine, grasping at my own as her tongue sought out the farthest corners of my mouth, I knew she loved me, too. She kissed me back, putting everything she had into that kiss as the rest of her body relaxed into my embrace.

_I knew it._

Hot damn. Holy shit. Hot holy fuck.

_I fucking knew it!_

As I felt her body, warm and soft and supple, melt into my arms as our tongues twirled against one another, I knew I had everything I'd ever really wanted, right there in my arms.

When our lips finally broke apart, leaving us both gasping for air, I brought my hand up, threaded my fingers through her silky hair and stroked my thumb across her cheek as she looked at me with heavy-lidded eyes and a languid smile. I knew it, right then, in that moment...

I had everything, and I was never, ever gonna let it...or her go.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Epilogue - Two Weeks Later<strong>_

"Thanks for meeting me here," Angela Montenegro said, setting her coffee mug down on the table and gazing out the window of the Royal Diner.

"Oh, it's no problem," Avalon replied with a smile as she took her seat across the table. "You seem worried," she observed, her blue eyes carefully scanning Angela's face as the younger woman continued to stare absently out the window. "But, then again, I think I know you well enough to know that without looking at the cards, Angie. So, come on. Tell me. What is it? What's got you worried this time?"

A smile cracked Angela's face as she turned away from the window.

"It's Brennan," she finally said with a gentle shrug. "She's been acting a little strange the last few days, you know. Really, the last week or two, now that I think about it. Almost distant...even for her, so that's saying something." She raised her coffee cup to her lips, but paused and didn't take a sip, instead holding the mug in her hands and staring at the contents before setting the cup on the table once more. She laughed awkwardly, swiveling the mug on the table distractedly as she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I mean, she's my best friend, and while I love her to pieces, I know she's not exactly the warm and gushy, touchy-feely kind, but still—"

Avalon looked up and smiled sweetly as she nodded at the waitress' silent offer of coffee. "Decaf, please," she said with a quick flash of her thin, carefully-waxed eyebrows. "What about her...her partner?" she asked, placing heavy emphasis on the word, which came across sounding like '_pot-nuh_' in her sharp, clipped Brooklyn accent. "Agent Booth? Have you talked to him about this? What'd he say?"

Pursing her lips, Angela accepted a refill from the waitress who came with an orange-spouted pot of decaf in one hand and a black-spouted pot of regular in the other. After the waitress walked away, Angela peeled open another tiny cup of half and half, dumping its contents into her steaming mug.

"I, uhhh...well, I really haven't had the chance to talk to him that much outside of work," Angela confessed.

"He's been busy, hmmm?" Avalon asked. "Is that so?"

"Yeah," Angela nodded. "I guess."

Thoughtful for a minute, Avalon then said, "He was sick not too long ago, right?"

Slowly, Angela again nodded by way of an answer. "Yeah, a couple of months ago, he was in the hospital for some major surgery. But, he pulled through okay, and he's better now."

"Oh?" Avalon asked. "He doesn't...well, since then, he doesn't seem any different to you than before?"

The artist considered the psychic's question and then responded, "He seems, well, a bit happier, I guess," she said. "As if he's caught his stride again. Maybe, more upbeat? But he also seems a bit..." She hesitated, knitting her eyebrows in thought as she stirred her coffee. "A little more reserved than usual, I guess. Protective almost. Like he doesn't want us to know what's going on in his world or what he's doing when and with whom." She shook her head at a memory and smiled. "He's always been the private type, sure, but I don't think I've ever seen him this...guarded. Sweets has been trolling around asking about him. I suppose that could be it because, Lord knows, that'd be enough to get me to clam up, I guess."

"Hmmm," Avalon murmured with a faint smile. "You're not really the clamming-up type, Angie." The young artist smirked into her coffee but said nothing in reply. "So, these behavioral things that you think you've seen between the two of them. What's up with that?" She stopped as she tilted her head and added, "You think something's changed between them, don't you?"

Angela bit her lip, then glanced out the window before turning back to Avalon. "Yeah," she admitted. "It's possible, sure, I guess. But those two have been doing a dance for years. I just don't know anymore, though. I'm half expecting him to make a move and her to run halfway to Saipan when he does, and then other times I think everything might work out. I just don't know when it might happen or where, but I can't help feeling that things are in motion between the two, and I don't understand what I'm missing about it.."

"Mmm-hmmm," Avalon replied vaguely. She glanced out the window and watched a wave of pedestrians cross the street caddy-corner from the diner. "I think things _have_ changed," she said. "They changed weeks ago, I think."

"Really?" Angela asked, as she sat up a bit straighter in her seat and her expressive almond-shaped brown eyes growing wider at the psychic's expression of her opinion. "Why do you say that?"

"I don't know," the psychic shrugged. "I can't explain everything all the time. You know that's not how this works, Angie."

Looking slightly abashed, Angela nodded, "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry. It's just that Bren is my best friend, and I'm worried about her."

"Well, you shouldn't be," Avalon told her reassuringly. "Not about him...not about this. Like I said, I'm not quite certain how or why, but I do have a good feeling about this...about them. I think, in the end, things will work out for those two."

"Is that what the cards say?" Angela asked, her eyebrows arched hopefully.

Avalon narrowed her eyes and rolled her lips together firmly as she inhaled the steam that rose from her coffee. "Don't worry about them," she said. "I know for a fact that everything's gonna work out for those two. They've been bound to one another for a long, long time. They'll be fine. Trust me."

Angela was silent for a moment and then said with a soft sigh, "Okay, then," Angela said, sliding her coffee cup to the edge of the table nearest the window. "I trust you, Avalon. I guess I'll have to take your word for it since you haven't been wrong yet."

Avalon shrugged with a noncommittal smile. "Besides," she added with a twinkle in her eye. "I think that you'll have your hands so full in the coming months, you won't really have time to worry about what's going on in Temperance's love life."

Angela turned her head and cocked an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"You've got changes ahead of you," Avalon said vaguely. "Things will fall in place for you, and when that happens, that husband of yours won't leave you much time to worry about somebody's else's living arrangements."

Angela's eyes opened wide. "Husband?"

"Mmmm," Avalon murmured, whatever else she had to say swallowed up by the brim of her coffee cup as she brought it to her lips, smiling all the while.

* * *

><p>~The End~ (for scenario #8)<p>

-TBC- (for the series)

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **_So, there you go—Dharmasera's first real foray into an alternating POV first-person narrative. (We'd say it was 100% first person, but obviously we cheated a bit with the Epilogue there.) Hmmm. So. We thought it was a pretty good experiment and yielded pretty effin hilarious results._

_What do you folks think? Writing an "unf" scene in alternating first person is, as we discovered, not an easy thing to pull off. It proved fairly challenging to write, even for the two of us who are at this point _*cough*_ fairly experienced in writing "unf" scenes. (Heh.)_

_So, did it work? Let us know what you thought of this fifth and second-to-last installment of "He Said, She Said." Lurkers, we know you're out there. Come on. De-lurk and tell us what you think._

**Technical note on reviews:**_ Some of our longtime readers/reviewers come across as "Guest" anonymous reviews because the FFnet system doesn't have them logged in at the time they review. If you want to review anonymously, by all means, please do so. If you want us to know who you are, make sure the review box has your name at the top before you click the magical "Post Review" button._

_Thanks! We love you guys and we always, always love hearing from you._


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